THE FIGHT.
Harris had looked at his watch when he called out to Whipple that five
minutes would be allowed him and Pete to give themselves up.
"While we're waiting to see what they do, inside there," the officer
said to Matt, "you go around and tell Sanders the fellows are showing
fight, and warn him to be on his guard."
Matt made his way to the corner of the house under the protection of
the veranda. Burton, at the first shot from inside, had got behind a
tree from which he could command the front entrance and the side of the
building he had been instructed to watch.
The young motorist, without being fired at, gained the rear door and
told Sanders what had happened around in front. Sanders had heaped
up a little pile of stove wood in the form of a breastwork, and was
crouching behind it.
"I heard that shot," said he, "and made up my mind we was goin' to have
brisk work. There ain't no trees handy, around here, so I did the next
best thing an' fortified my position with stove wood. You bet I'll be
on the lookout, King! If any man tries to come through that door, I'll
drop him in his tracks. I don't know what them skunks think they can
do, actin' in this way. We could keep 'em boxed up in there fer a week,
if we wanted to, and they're bound to lose out in the end."
Leaving Sanders to watch and wait for developments, Matt started back
toward the front of the house. Seeing a garage that Caspar had built
for his car, the idea struck him to move over in that direction and
look for the stolen automobile. He found the door of the garage locked.
As he turned away from it, he saw a square framework of oak planks
leaning against the barn. Probably the framework was four feet square.
What it had been used for Matt could not guess, but his quick brain
instantly devised an idea.
Dragging the framework along with him, he reached the front of the
house and found Harris just snapping his watch and returning it to his
pocket. The South Chicago man was standing near the tree with Burton.
"The five minutes are up," he remarked, "and here's where we've got to
do something. What are you bringing there, Matt?" he asked.
"A portable fort," replied Matt. "You've got to get to the front door,
Harris, and you don't want Pete and Whipple making a target of you
while you're doing it. After you get close up to the door they won't be
able to reach you with their bullets."
"Egol, that's a bright idea! But how's one man going to manage the
thing?"
"I'll go along with you. Between the two of us I guess we can handle
it."
Holding the framework on edge, Matt and Harris crouched behind it;
then, keeping it upright and hauling it along with them, they started
across the front of the house toward the steps.
Weapons cracked from the boarded-up windows, and leaden missiles
_chugged_ into the stout oak planks. The bullets could not penetrate
the heavy oak, and consequently they did no damage. Reaching the steps,
Matt and Harris lifted the framework upward a step at a time and
finally gained the recess containing the front door. Here they stepped
from behind the barricade, and the officer laid hands on the knob and
shook the door violently.
"Open!" he cried; "open in the name of the law!"
A taunting laugh from within was his only answer.
"I hate to do any damage to this fine building," said Harris, "but
we've got to get in if the scoundrels won't come out. I'll try to smash
the lock."
Placing the muzzle of his revolver against the key-hole, he pulled the
trigger. The bullet tore its way through the lock, and once again the
officer essayed to open the door. But it defied his efforts.
"There must be a bolt in addition to the lock," said he, disappointed.
"If we smash in here we'll have to use a battering-ram, and I don't
want to do that except as a last resort. We'll look for a ladder and
make an attack on one of the windows."
When he and Matt started down the steps with their movable framework,
they came nearly getting caught by a drop fire. The shooting was done
from the second-story windows, and the bullets came over the top of the
oak shield. Fortunately no harm was done, and Matt and Harris tilted
the screen so as to cover the tops of their heads.
Just as they reached the bottom of the steps, a fierce yell came from
the rear of the house, followed by sounds of firing.
"Sanders is in trouble!" cried Burton, starting to run around the side
of the building. "While some of those inside were holding our attention
at the front door, an attempt was made to get out at the back."
"You stay here, Burton!" shouted Harris. "They may be trying to draw
all of us around behind while they get through the front entrance.
Watch the door like a hawk, and I'll go around and help Sanders."
Matt trailed after Harris as he hotfooted it for the back yard. They
found Sanders leaning over the top of his woodpile, covering the rear
door with his revolver.
"What's the matter?" demanded Harris.
"Nothin' now," Sanders answered grimly. "It's all over. One of 'em
pulled the kitchen door open an' was plannin' to make a break. I
discouraged the attempt an' the man jumped back and slammed the door."
Harris leaped to the door, put a bullet into the lock and then tried to
push into the house. But this door, like the one in front, had other
fastenings than the lock, and the attempt was fruitless. Harris beat a
retreat as soon as he found out the effort could not succeed. Several
bullets followed his retreat, coming from the windows, and one of them
pierced his helmet and flung the head-piece to the ground.
"They're getting real savage," remarked Sanders grimly. "If they don't
look out they'll hurt somebody."
"It will make it all the worse for them, if they do," snapped Harris,
his temper rising with each succeeding failure to get into the house.
"We'll get a stick of cordwood and smash in this back door."
There was a pile of cordwood near the garage, and Harris ran and got a
heavy, four-foot section of elm. Matt jumped to help him.
"You'd better take Sanders' gun and stay behind the woodpile, Matt,"
said Harris, "and let Sanders and me do this. There'll be more shooting
and----"
"Sanders will watch the door better than I can," broke in Matt, laying
hold of one end of the heavy stick.
"All right," acquiesced Harris, and they ran at the door.
The shooting continued, but it was plain that the men in the house were
not in good range, for their ammunition was wasted.
The end of the stick of wood crashed into the door and set it to
shaking. A second blow still further loosened it, and a third sent it
smashing inward.
The giving 'way of the door under the impact threw both Harris and Matt
from their feet, and the two of them, with the stick, tumbled into the
kitchen.
Matt, quick as a cat to regain his feet, saw Whipple and Pete bearing
down on Harris with clubs. The officer lay on the floor, half stunned.
Grabbing him by the feet, Matt jerked him back to safety, followed by a
torrent of oaths from the two fugitives.
The door slammed. While Harris was getting to his feet, Pete and
Whipple could be heard piling things against the door on the inside.
"Wow, this head!" exclaimed Harris, lifting one hand to his temples.
"It hasn't got over that first jolt, yet, and here it gets another. And
we didn't gain much, at that."
"We haven't got a strong enough force to rush into the house," said
Sanders. "If it hadn't been for King, Harris, you'd have been captured
by those fellows, and then Burton and I would have had to send for help
before we could do anything more. You've got to be more careful, or the
gang will escape in spite of us."
"I'm beginning to see that, myself. But we can't lay around here with
our hands in our pockets. If----"
"Hist!" interrupted Matt, in an excited whisper.
"Don't look up, Harris. Miss Brady is on the roof and just looked over
and waved her hand."
"Great Scott!" muttered Harris. "What do you think that means?"
"It means that she has been able to free herself, in some way, and get
to the top of the house. Now's our chance to rescue her and get her out
of this fighting."
"How's it to be done? There ain't ladders enough to reach to the roof,
and Pete and Whipple wouldn't give us a chance to use them even if
there were."
"We can't use ladders, and we can't let any of those in the house know
by our actions that there's anyone on the roof. The instant they think
Miss Brady is up there, they'll make a rush for the top of the house
and drag her back inside. Don't look up, whatever you do."
"But we've got to get the girl off the roof, in some way."
"I'll use the air ship----"
"That's a scheme for your life!" exclaimed Harris.
"But while I'm using the Hawk," went on Matt, speaking quickly, "you
and Sanders and Burton must contrive to keep everyone in the house
occupied on the lower floor."
"We can do that. We'll blaze away at the boards at the windows. That
will keep their attention below."
"You'd better go and tell Burton what our plan is. If he should see
Miss Brady he'd be liable to yell to us, and that would let Pete and
Whipple know what's up."
"They'll probably suspect something when they see the air ship coming."
"I don't think so. Besides, if you keep them busy enough, the chances
are that the Hawk won't be seen."
"If you _are_ seen, Matt, you'll surely be shot at--and the Hawk's
a pretty big target. If a bullet is put into the gas bag, or if one
smashes into the motor, you and the girl may be killed."
"I think I can make it," said Matt resolutely. "Anyhow, I'm going to
try."
"Good luck to you!" returned Harris warmly. "I'll go at once and put
Burton next."
While the officer moved toward the front of the house, Matt started for
the rear of the yard on his way back to the air ship.