“Let me go free. I will promise not to reveal anything that I have discovered.”
“I am sorry, boy, but you were made prisoner by my brother, and I owe it to him to prevent your escape.”
It was intolerable to Ernest to think of having his captivity renewed. He determined that he would at least make an effort for freedom.
Accordingly he did not hesitate, but started to run, hoping that in this way he might save himself. He had always the reputation among his boy companions as a sprinter, and resolved to see whether this was a lost art.
“So that’s your game, is it?” exclaimed the outlaw. “It will go hard with me if I don’t catch you. Stop, or it will be the worse for you!”
But Ernest had no intention of giving up so soon. He only exerted himself the more.
The contest was not so unequal as might have been supposed. Ernest was tall for his age, and the outlaw was rather below the average height. So there was in reality only about an inch difference in their height.
On the other hand, John Fox had, as might be supposed, more strength and endurance. He was not over weight and therefore not scant of breath. Ernest got the start and this was an advantage. One ran about as fast as the other, so it settled down into a contest of endurance.
The outlaw, however, was irritated at the unexpected difficulty of his undertaking. He had thought that Ernest would surrender.
“I wish I had my revolver,” he muttered.