Jack Ranger's Western Trip Part 30

His trained observance, despite the evil purpose to which it was put, had at once told the intruder that John was a light and nervous slumberer. Nevertheless the thief decided to risk it. He moved his hand, inch by inch, under John's pillow. A shadow would have made no more noise. It took him nearly twice as long as it had to get the pocketbooks from Nat and Jack, but at length he was successful.

Holding the three in his hand he made his way to the door whence he had entered.

"I think I'll just take a look at what sort of a haul I made, before I leave here," the man said. "No use carting a lot of useless stuff away."

There was a dim light burning in the hall, nearly opposite Jack's door. Half concealed by the portal the man paused just within the room and looked over the contents of the pocketbooks.

"Plenty of bills," he observed.

He took the money out and made it into one roll, and this he held in his hand. Rapidly he went through the other compartments of the wallets. He came across the queer card which Mr. Liggins had given Jack.

"Might as well take that along," he said to himself. "No telling what it is, but it might come in handy. I might want to pretend I belonged to the order, for it looks like a lodge emblem. I'll stow that away."

The thief laid the wallets and the money down on the floor, while he reached in a pocket to get a card case in which he carried his few valuables. He placed the odd bit of pasteboard inside this.

"Now to toss the wallets aside and skip with the cash," he murmured, and suiting the action to his words he began to move softly into the corridor.

It was a good thing that nature had endowed John with a nervous temperament, and had made him a light sleeper. For, at that instant, or maybe a little before, some peculiar action on the Indian's nerves conveyed a message to his brain.

It was not a clear and definite sort of message, in fact it was rather confused--in the same shape as a dream. John seemed to be riding a big cow pony down a steep incline, after a big buffalo on whose back sat a dark, smooth-shaven man. The same man, John thought in his dream, he had seen in the elevator that evening.

And while John was riding for dear life after the buffalo, he thought he saw the strange man turn back and go to where the three boys had left their coats on the gra.s.sy bank of Lake Rudmore. John fancied he gave up his pursuit of the buffalo to leap off and run to where the thief was stealing his own and his comrades' possessions.

The shock of leaping from the back of a swiftly running pony, and rolling head over heals as a result, awoke John, or, rather, the peculiar action of his dream did. He sat up in bed with a jump, just in time to see the thief putting the money into his pocket, and, with the three wallets, steal out into the corridor.

It must have been the continuance of the dream that made John act so quickly. He leaped out of bed, half asleep as he was, and, with a yell that sounded enough like an Indian warwhoop to startle his two companions, he made a dash for the man.

Out of the room and down the dimly lighted hall dashed the Indian student. Before him fled the thief.

"Stop!" yelled John.

"What's the matter?" cried Jack, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Is the place on fire?"

"What's the matter? Have we missed the train?" Nat demanded to know.

"Thieves!" was all John replied.

By this time several guests of the hotel had awakened and there were anxious inquiries as to what was going on. The thief sped down the long corridor, with John, clad only in his nightdress, after him. The fellow tossed the wallets down, but the flat way in which they fell told John the intruder had taken their most valuable contents from them.

Well for the Indian that he was a fleet runner. Few there were who could have distanced him, and certainly the rascal who was out of training in athletic lines could not. A few more strides, and John grabbed the man by the coat.

"Now I've got you!" the Indian shouted.

A moment later the two went down in a heap, the man's legs having slipped from under him. But, even in the fall, John did not let go his hold. The man kept one hand in his pocket. In the flickering gaslight the Indian saw this, and rightly guessed that there the money was.

Quick as a flash John slipped his hand in and found the man was grasping something tightly.

"Let go!" the fellow growled.

"Not much!" exclaimed John. "I'm after our money!"

"I'll--I'll--cut you!" panted the thief.

"Police! Murder! Fire!" yelled a woman outside of whose door the desperate struggle was now going on.

With a great effort John loosened the hand that clenched the money.

Then the Indian drew out the bills. The thief tried to grab them back. As he did so John tried to get up, having accomplished the main part of his purpose, that of saving his own and his chums' money.

But, as he did so, the thief gave a roll, to get on top. This brought him to the edge of a flight of stairs, and, a second later the two were rolling down.

b.u.mp! b.u.mp! b.u.mp! they went until they reached a landing. John's head struck the baseboard, and, for a moment he was stunned. There was a rush of feet in the corridor above.

"Hold him! We're coming!" was the cry.

John heard dimly. Then a blackness seemed to come over him. The lights faded away. He just remembered thrusting his hand containing the bills into his pocket, and then he fainted away.

The thief, with nimble feet, was half way down the second flight of stairs by now, for, finding the hold of his captor loosened, he made the best of his opportunity.

"Have you got him, John?" yelled Jack.

"Hold him until I come!" shouted Nat.

They had both run out into the hallway in time to see John pursuing the thief. They reached the top of the stairs just as the fellow fled.

The thief, as he ran down the stairs, cast up one look. Jack Ranger saw him, the light from a gas jet in the lower corridor shining full on the man's face.

"Professor Punjab! Hemp Smith!" exclaimed Jack, as he recognized the fakir who called himself Marinello Booghoobally.

"Did he get away?" asked Nat, coming up just then.

"Yes, and I guess he's killed John," said Jack, his heart failing him.

CHAPTER XX

A STRANGE SEANCE

By this time the corridors, above and below were filled with excited men, all scantily attired. Nat and Jack ran to where John was lying on the landing, and lifted his head.

"I'm all right," exclaimed the Indian, as he opened his eyes. "Got a bad one on the head, that's all. I can walk."

He proceeded to demonstrate this by standing up and mounting the stairs.

"Did he get our money?" asked Nat.

In answer John showed the roll he still held tightly clenched in his hand.