"Let go!" the fellow growled.
"Not much!" exclaimed John. "I'm after our money!"
"I'll—I'll—cut you!" panted the thief.
"Police! Murder! Fire!" yelled a woman outside of whose door the desperate struggle was now going on.
With a great effort John loosened the hand that clenched the money. Then the Indian drew out the bills. The thief tried to grab them back. As he did so John tried to get up, having accomplished the main part of his purpose, that of saving his own and his chums' money. But, as he did so, the thief gave a roll, to get on top. This brought him to the edge of a flight of stairs, and, a second later the two were rolling down.
Bump! Bump! Bump! they went until they reached a landing. John's head struck the baseboard, and, for a moment he was stunned. There was a rush of feet in the corridor above.
"Hold him! We're coming!" was the cry.
John heard dimly. Then a blackness seemed to come over him. The lights faded away. He just remembered thrusting his hand containing the bills into his pocket, and then he fainted away.
The thief, with nimble feet, was half way down the second flight of stairs by now, for, finding the hold of his captor loosened, he made the best of his opportunity.
"Have you got him, John?" yelled Jack.