Paul was running for all he was worth. Dick promptly gave chase. He was a good runner, and, despite the boy’s desperate exertion, rapidly overhauled him.
When he got near enough he struck at the boy with his fist, and once more Paul sprawled into the road. He was partially stunned, and, before he could recover, both men were upon him.
“Let me smash him,” cried the one savagely. “He nearly broke my nose. Just let me get at him.”
“Oh, what’s the use!” said the other. “We’ve no time to fool with him. Give me your handkerchief.”
The man did so, and in a few minutes Paul’s hands were secured behind him, he was lifted between them, and carried back to the cave.
Here he was laid down, and Dick began searching him.
“We may as well take whatever you’ve got of value,” he said. “We deserve something for that blasted run you gave us.”
Paul’s heart sank. His mother’s hard-earned fifty dollars would be stolen.
The man soon found the book and the bills, and chuckled as he saw the money. Then, by the light of the lantern which he had relighted, he examined the book, and uttered a low whistle.
“Well, I’ll be hanged, Joe,” he cried, “if here isn’t one o’ the Buildin’ and Loan books; fifty dollars along with it, too, by the great thunder! Well, youngster, we’d only get this money anyhow, so we’ll take it now. Wish we could get all that’ll be paid in to-night as easy as we get this.”