"They'll make mince mate av us!"

"I must follow her!"

"Well, folly, av ye want to!" shouted the Irish lad. "Oi'm goin' to
shtop th' gang!"

Crack! The panel gave. Crack! splinter! smash! Out came a long strip,
which Frank flung upon the floor.

Barney caught it up and whirled toward the stairs.

The desperadoes were coming with a rush--they were well up the stairs.
In another moment the leading ruffian would have reached the second
floor.

"Get back, ye gossoons! Down, ye haythen! Take thot, ye bloody pirates!"

The strip of heavy wood in Barney's hands whirled through the air, and
came down with a resounding crack on the head of the leader.

The fellows had not learned caution by the fate of the first man to
climb the stairs, and they were following their second leader as close
as possible.

Barney had a strong arm, and he struck the fellow with all his power.
Well it was for the ruffian that the heavy wood was not very thick, else
he would have had a broken head.

Back he toppled upon the one behind, and that one made a vain attempt to
support him. The dead weight was too much, and the second fell, again
sweeping the whole lot to the foot of the stairs.

"Hurro!" shouted the Irish boy, in wild delight. "This is th' koind av a
picnic pwhat Oi admire! Come on, ye nagurs! It's Barney Mulloy ye're
runnin' up against, an' begobs! he's good fer th' whole crowd av yez!"

At the foot of the stairs there was a writhing, wrangling, snarling mass
of human beings; at the head of the stairs was a young Irishman who
laughed and crowed and flourished the cudgel of wood in his hands.

Barney, feeling his blood leaping joyously in his veins, felt like
singing, and so he began to warble a "fighting song," over and over
inviting his enemies to come on.

In the meantime Frank had made an opening large enough to force his body
through.

"Come on, Barney!" he cried, attracting the other boy's attention by a
sharp blow.

"Pwhere?"

"In here--somewhere."

"Frankie, ye're muddled, an' Oi nivver saw yez so before."

"What do you mean?"

"Nivver a bit would it do for us both to go in there, fer th' craythers
moight hiv us in a thrap."

"You're right, Barney. I will go. You stay here and hold the ruffians
back. Here--take my revolver. You'll need it."

"G'wan wid yez! Quit yer foolin', Frankie! Oi hiv an illigant shillaly
here, an' thot's all Oi nade, unliss ye have two revolvers."

"This is the only one I ha