" said Ted to
himself. "But we must get them before the house catches."

Suddenly he straightened up. A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he
clutched his side.

"Ted, you must not exert yourself," said Stella, springing toward him.
"Ted, remember you are wounded; you do not know how badly."

"I'm all right," answered Ted, with a grim smile. "Let me alone for a
while, Stella. Then you can fuss over me all you like. I've got to think
of some way to circumvent those devils."

Suddenly he drew his revolver from its holster.

"I have it," he said briskly. "It's taking a risk, but it must be done.
If they set the house afire it's all off with us. Kit, stand ready to
throw open the door when I give the word. Then shield me from shots from
the shrubbery on the opposite side of the garden. The gang is hiding
behind those bushes."

"What are you going to do?" asked Stella breathlessly.

"I'm going out to stop those fellows with the tar barrel."

"You are not. I will not let you," cried Stella.

Ted gave Stella a peculiar look that she had never seen in his face
before, and she rather quailed from it, it was so full of authority and
force.

"Sorry, Stella, to do anything against your wishes," he said quietly.
"But some one must do it, and Kit is wounded in his pistol arm, and the
other boys are busy."

"Oh, fiddle!" cried Stella. "You are wounded yourself."

"But I'm going, just the same. Stand ready, Kit."

Kit sprang to the door.

Already they could smell the burning tar.

"Hi, deir der puilding firing up alretty," shouted Carl, bursting into
the room, pale with apprehension.

"All right, Carl. Stand back from the door, and do as Kit tells you,"
said Ted. Then, with a look at Stella, which seemed to ask her
forgiveness for acting against her wishes, he got ready for a rush.

"Open!" he yelled.

Kit threw the door wide, and Ted Strong sprang out into the garden, and
ran swiftly along toward the rear, keeping close to the wall.

He was firing toward the shrubbery as he ran, and those on guard inside
heard yells of agony.

Evidently Ted was making good with his bullets.

There came a return fire from the shrubbery, directed not at the open
door, but at the flying figure of Ted.

Stella, Kit, and Carl poured a hot fusillade into the bushes, but did
not seem able to silence the fire from them.

Then Stella did a foolhardy thing. Without a word of warning she leaped
through the doorway, and stood on the