Ernest, without waiting for further questions, told the story as briefly as possible.
“So, after all,” he concluded, “I should have been taken again but for my friend here,” laying his hand upon the Indian’s shoulder. “I told him you would pay him for his trouble in accompanying me.”
“So I will,” said the cashier, and he took a five-dollar bill and tendered it to the Indian.
The latter objected to taking it, alleging that Ernest had saved his boy’s life, but the cashier overruled his objections and he accepted it.
They were going out of the bank when the familiar figure of Luke Robbins came up the street. His face was clouded by an expression of anxiety and he seemed troubled. He had searched everywhere for Ernest, and thus far had failed to find him.
When he saw the boy emerging from the bank his face changed at once.
“So you are safe, Ernest? I thought I had lost you,” he exclaimed. “Did you see anything of the outlaws?”
“I should say that I did. I was captured by James Fox and confined two nights in the underground haunts of the robbers. When I escaped this afternoon I fell into the clutches of the other brother.”
“What! John Fox?”
“Yes.”