Old Drew was greatly frightened, and Davis showed alarm.

“Hold that door—hold that door one minute!” cried Isa. “It will give us time to get out of the way!”

Bruce Browning’s shoulder went against the door, and he calmly drawled:

“Anybody won’t come in here in a hurry.”

“Come!” whispered the girl, catching hold of Hart; “we must get away! quick!”

Davis leaped after them.

“It will not be a good thing for me to be seen here,” he said. “If there is a way of getting under cover, you must take me along.”

“That’s right,” nodded Isa, “for you would peach if you were pinched. Come!”

By the way of the door that led into the back room they disappeared.

Rap-bang! rap-bang! rap-bang!

“Open this door instanter!”

Higgins roared the order from the outside.

“What’s your great rush?” coolly inquired Browning.

A volley of fierce language flew from the sheriff’s lips.

“I’ll show yer!” he thundered. “Down goes ther door if ye don’t open it immediate!”

“Be good enough, Mr. Drew, to ascertain if our friends are under cover yet,” said Frank.

The old man hobbled into the back room, was gone a moment, and then reappeared, something like a look of relief on his withered face.

“They’re gone,” he whispered.

“Will it be all right to open the door?”

“I reckon ye’ll have to open it.”

“All right. Admit Mr. Higgins, Bruce.”

Browning stepped away from the door, lifting the iron bar.

Instantly it flew wide open, and, with a big revolver in each hand, the sheriff strode heavily into the room.

Behind him came another man, who was also armed and ready to do shooting if necessary.

Higgins glared around.

“Whatever does this mean?” he asked, astonished by the presence of the bicycle boys.

“Whatever does what mean?” asked Frank, innocently.

“You critters bein’ here. I don’t understand it.”

“We are stopping here for the night.”

“Sho! Is that it? Well, you’re not the only ones. Where are the others?”

“What others?”

“One in particler—the one you helped to get away to-day. You’ll have to square with me for that.”

“I presume you mean Mr. Hodge?”

“That’s whatever.”

“I think your memory is at fault, sir. I did not aid him in getting away, but you owe me thanks for keeping you from shooting him. He would have made the unlucky thirteenth man.”

“Well, hang me if you ain’t got nerve! All the same, you’ll have to take your medicine for aiding a criminal.”

“He has not been proved a criminal yet, sir.”

“Oh, you know all about it! Well, he’s somewhere round this ranch, and I’m going to rope him. Watch the front, Britts.”

“All right, sir,” said the man who accompanied Higgins.

Then the big sheriff strode into the back room, picking up the lamp to aid him in his search.

Frank held his breath, wondering what Higgins would find.

After four or five minutes the sheriff came back, and he was in a furious mood.

“I know the critter is here somewhere!” he roared; “and I’ll have him, too! Can’t hide from me!”

“That’s right,” smiled Frank, with a profound bow. “You have an eagle eye, Mr. Higgins, and you should be able to find anything there is about the place. I wouldn’t think of trying to hide from you.”

“Ye-he! ye-he! ye-he!” giggled Toots.

Higgins’ face was black with fury. He pointed a revolver straight at Frank, and thundered:

“You think you’re funny, but I’m going ter bore yer if you don’t talk up instanter! You know where that galoot Hodge is hid, and you’ll tell, too.”

“My dear sir,” returned Frank, as he folded his arms and looked the furious man fairly in the eyes, “I do not know where Bart Hodge is hidden, and I would not tell if I did.”

Higgins ground has teeth.

“Say yer prayers!” he grated. “I’m goin’ to make you the thirteenth!”

He was in deadly earnest, yet it did not seem that Frank quailed in the least before him. Indeed, in the face of such peril, Merriwell apparently grew bolder, and a scornful smile curled his lips.

“Shoot!” he cried, his voice ringing out clear and unshaken—“shoot and prove yourself a detestable coward!”

The other lads held their breath. They felt like interfering, but something in Frank’s manner seemed to warn them to keep still and not try to aid him.

“You think I won’t do it,” muttered Higgins. “Well, I’ll show ye! I always do exactly as I say. Now, you eat lead!”

There was a scream, a swish, a rush of feet, a flitting form, and Isa Isban had flung herself in front of Frank, protecting him with her own body!

The heavy revolver spoke!

Bang!

Frank had realized with wonderful quickness that the girl meant to save him by protecting him with her body, and he caught her by the shoulders, flinging her to the floor in an effort to keep her from being shot at any cost to himself.

He would not have been successful, however, but for big Bruce Browning.

The big fellow had been watching Higgins as a hawk watches a chicken. At first, he had not thought it possible the sheriff would fire. He could not conceive that the man was such a ruffian. At the last moment, however, he saw Higgins meant to shoot.

Browning’s hand rested on the back of a chair. With a swiftness that was simply marvelous in one who naturally moved with the greatest slowness, he swung that chair into the air and flung it at the furious sheriff.

Higgins saw the movement out of the corners of his eyes, and, although the missile had not reached him when he pulled the trigger, his aim had been disconcerted.

The bullet touched Frank’s ear as it passed and buried itself in the wall.

Then old Drew dashed out the light, and the place was plunged in darkness.