Suddenly he was conscious that someone was near his cot. He could hear hard breathing and then he felt a hand creeping over the covers. In a flash he grasped it and yelled aloud to Mountain Jim. Now Jim, no less tired than Ralph, had likewise dropped off to sleep despite his determined efforts to keep awake. But Ralph’s cry brought him out of his cot in a bound.
“Great Blue Bells of Scotland! What’s up?” he roared.
“There’s someone trying to rob me!” yelled Ralph, still clutching the wrist he had caught. The next instant a hand was at his throat and a knee on his chest and he was choked into silence. But his cry had had its effect. Like a runaway steer Mountain Jim came charging through the darkness.
“Who in creation are you, you scallywag? What do you want?” he roared, grabbing hold of Ralph’s antagonist, for by good luck he had come straight in the direction of Ralph’s cry. Without giving whoever the midnight intruder was any chance to reply, Mountain Jim encircled him with his iron arm and hurled him clear across the room. They could hear a crash and grunt as the fellow fetched up, and then a rush of feet through the darkness followed by the crash of a heavy fall, caused apparently by a violent tumble down the steep stairs leading to the attic.
They listened intently and heard somebody picking himself up and limping off.
“Well, what do you think of that?” exclaimed Mountain Jim. “Serves me right for sleeping, though, Ralph. Are you hurt?”
“Not a bit, but I feel half choked. That fellow had a half Nelson on my neck, all right.”
“I guess I had a whole one on his,” chuckled Jim. “Strike a match, Ralph, and let’s see what we can see.”
The match showed a revolver lying on the floor by Ralph’s bed apparently just as it had been dropped by the intruder when Jim’s mighty arm encircled him.