“Help! Tom, help!” shouted Jake, doubling himself up and twisting about in all sorts of shapes to break Julian’s hold. “Be ye a coward that ye stand down there gapin’ that way?”
Tom did not reply, and neither did he show any inclination to respond to his brother’s appeals for assistance. He stood at the foot of the bluff, holding his hands to his side, which had been pretty severely bruised by his fall, and listening to the footsteps and ejaculations of some one who was approaching through the bushes at a rapid run.
“Ye know that I’ve got a’most a hundred dollars of his’n in my pocket!” yelled Jake, indignant at the conduct of his brother. “Be ye goin’ to stand thar an’ let him take it away from me?”
“A’most a hundred dollars!” cried a familiar voice in tones of great amazement. “Hang on to him, Jake, an’ I’ll say no more about the whoppin’ I promised ye.”
“O, won’t ye ketch it now, Julian!” shouted Tom, almost beside himself with delight. “Pap’s a comin’!”
Both the combatants heard the words, and the fight became desperate indeed. Julian strove with greater determination than ever to force the coveted box from Jake’s pocket, and the latter, encouraged by the hope of speedy and powerful assistance, confidently continued the struggle which he had more than once been on the point of abandoning. But fortune favored the rightful owner of the money. An unlucky step on the part of his antagonist precipitated them both into the excavation in which the store-house had stood, and that ended the contest.
A severe bump took all the courage out of Jake, who, setting up a howl of pain, raised both hands to his head, while Julian, with a shout of triumph, secured the box and sprung out of the cave. A burly form met him on the brink, and strong fingers closed on his coat collar.
“I’ve got ye at last!” exclaimed Jack Bowles, so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak. “Give up them hundred dollars to onct, or I’ll wallop ye till——”
Julian did not hear what else Jack had to say, for he was not there. Mr. Bowles stood holding at arm’s length a tattered coat, to the collar of which he was clinging with all his strength; but the boy who had been in the garment when he took hold of it was bounding swiftly down the bluff.