here came
again a soft thudding blow and Carson's dry voice outside, saying
calmly:

"Shorty got away, but you don't, pardner. Give 'em hell, Bud. I'm in
the play again."

"Two men down," grunted Lee to himself with grim satisfaction. "And
old Carson back on the job. Only two to our one now."

The form in the window crumpled and under Carson's quick hands was
jerked out. Suddenly it was very still in the little room. Steve did
not fire a third time; Quinnion held his fire. For Lee had made no
answer and they were taking heavy chances with every shot now, chances
of shooting the wrong man. Each of the four watchful men in the narrow
apartment breathed softly.

Once more Lee lifted his gun above his head. As he held it thus, he
put out his left hand gently, inch by inch, gropingly. Extended full
length, it touched nothing. Slowly he moved it in a semi-circle, the
gun in his right hand always ready to come crashing down. His fingers
touched the wall, then moving back assured him that no one was within
reach. Lifting a foot slowly, he took one cautious step forward,
toward the spot where he had last seen Quinnion. Again his arm,
circling through the darkness, sought to locate for him one of the men
who must be very near him now. Suddenly it brushed a man's shoulder.

There was a sharp, muttered exclamation, and again a flare of red flame
as this man fired. But he had misjudged Bud Lee's position by a few
inches, the bullet cut through Lee's coat, and Lee's clubbed revolver
fell unerringly, smashing into the man's forehead. There was a low
moan, a revolver clattered to the floor, a body fell heavily.

"A new situation," thought Lee. Three men down before a clock could
tick off as many minutes and not a single man shot. It was a place for
a man like Charlie Miller with his old pick-handle.

"Bud," called Carson's voice sharply, "are you all right?"

"Yes," answered Lee briefly, and as he answered moved sharply to one
side so that his voice might not draw a shot from Quinnion or the other
men. There came two spurts of flame, one from each of the corners of
the room opposite him, the reports of the two shots reverberating
loudly. But this was mere guesswork--shooting at no more definite
thing than a man's voice, and Lee having moved swiftly had little fear.
And he knew pretty well where those two men were now.

So did Carson, who from without fired in twice through the window.
Then again it grew