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. Had the outlaw been aware that Ernest had in his possession the packet of bonds which had impelled his brother to make him a captive his zeal would have been increased. He knew, of course, that the bonds would be taken from him and he could conceive of no chance of the boy's recovering them. They flew over the ground, maintaining the same relative distance. But there was an unexpected contingency that worked to the disadvantage of Ernest. Directly in his path was a projecting root which in his haste escaped his notice. He tripped over it, and as a natural consequence he measured his length on the ground. The outlaw's face lighted up with exultation. Now the issue was no longer doubtful. Before Ernest could recover himself and rise to his feet John Fox was upon him. He flung himself on the prostrate boy and clutched him in a firm grasp. "Now I have you," he said. "You were a fool to run. You might have known that you could not escape." "I came near it, though," gasped Ernest, quite out of breath. "Let me up." "Will you promise to go with me without giving me any more trouble?" "I will make no promises," said Ernest. "Then it will be the worse for you," said the outlaw vindictively. What he proposed to do must remain unknown, for as he spoke a hand was thrust into his neckcloth and he was jerked violently to his feet. CHAPTER XXII CASTRO TO THE RESCUE Bewildered and angry, John Fox looked to see who was his assailant. He found himself confronted by a tall, muscular Indian, whom Ernest also recognized as the man whose child he had saved from a watery grave. "What do you mean by this outrage?" demanded the outlaw angrily. "Why are you hurting him?" said the Indian, pointing to Ernest. "Because I choose to." "Me stop you," said the Indian calmly. "I have a great mind to shoot you." This was an empty threat, for his weapon had been taken by the Quaker detective. The only answer made by the Indian was to produce a revolver, which he pointed at the breast of the outlaw. "Two play at that game," he answered. John Fox shrank back, for it takes a man of nerve to face a revolver. He began to remonstrate. "What interest have you in that boy?" he asked. "He save my little boy from drowning," answered the Indian. "Will you go or shall me shoot?"