Bob, crouching low, crept along the street, at times almost crawling. It wasn’t a pleasant task, but he was steadily putting distance between himself and the stalled taxi, where he knew the hunt for his uncle and himself was being concentrated. The young federal agent stumbled over a timber and sprawled headlong on the dirt. To Bob it sounded as though the noise of his fall must have echoed and re-echoed along the street. He remained motionless, almost breathless on the ground, waiting for the pursuit to swing toward him. But evidently the noise of his tumble was not as great as he had feared and the hunt continued near the taxi. Bob continued his cautious advance toward the car which had brought their pursuers. He was not certain whether anyone had been left to guard the machine and he moved carefully as he neared the vehicle. He was now at least 200 feet from the stalled taxi, and he had no desire to give an alarm which would bring the others swarming toward him. Bob now had decided what he would do when he reached the car. In turning it about he would race the engine, which would be sure to attract the attention of the men seeking his uncle and allow him to escape from the far end of the street. There should be ample time for Bob to maneuver the car about and get it started back down the street before he could be overhauled. The young federal agent was less than twenty feet from the car, close enough to hear the soft purring of its powerful engine, when a gun blazed from behind him and the echoes of a shot resounded between the buildings which flanked the street. Chapter XXII THE LONE STRUGGLE ★ All thoughts of escaping in the car vanished from Bob’s mind on the echoes of the shot, which meant that his uncle had been discovered, that he was a target for gunfire from the guns of their pursuers. The young federal agent swung about in his tracks and started back down the street, stumbling over the piles of debris as he raced forward, forgetful now of any danger to himself and thinking only of his chance to help his uncle protect the precious paper which was in his possession. From the vicinity of the stalled taxi cab guns were barking steadily now and Bob paused. The scarlet flashes marked the night and the sharp reports from the guns rang back and forth between the high-walled street. Bob counted three guns in action, all directed toward a darker mass near the far end of the street. Then another gun joined in the fusillade, this time from what apparently was a pile of debris and from its heavy roar Bob knew that it was his uncle’s automatic.