Merritt Hughes, who had made his way cautiously toward the far end of the street, had been discovered just before he could make a final break to safety. After the first shot from the guns of his pursuers, he had taken refuge behind a pile of bricks and concrete slabs, where he was ready to make a determined resistance. If he could stand off the attack for several minutes, a swarm of police, attracted by the gunfire, would descend upon them. But the men in the street were shooting carefully and spreading out, attempting to encircle him and force his surrender. They were moving rapidly, dodging so quickly that it was almost impossible to single them out in the shadows or to flip an accurate shot at them. His ammunition was confined to the one clip in his gun and a spare clip in his coat pocket. It wouldn’t last long in an encounter with three gunmen and every shot must be made to count. A close shot, which struck a slab of concrete, threw a fine cloud of dust into his eyes and blinded him for the moment. He wondered about Bob and whether he had been able to make his escape. If he hadn’t before this, now surely, with all of the firing, he would be able to escape from the street. Perhaps he would even be able to lead the rescuing police which he felt sure would come soon. But Bob, at the other end of the street, had his own ideas about the police and the need for a hasty rescue. He paused in his mad dash down the block. Unarmed, he would be no match for the gunmen who were attempting to surround his uncle and obtain the paper. A new plan formed in Bob’s mind and he turned determinedly and headed for the car. It was a large and powerful sedan with a motor under its hood that equalled the power of a hundred and twenty horses. There was no one in the car and Bob slid into the driver’s seat. The doors were unusually high and heavy and he guessed that the car was bullet proof. Bob reached for the headlight switch, then thought better of it, and meshed the gears into low. He tramped on the throttle and the motor roared into action. With a lurch the heavy car plunged off the pavement and into the street which was undergoing repairs. Bob would have liked to have used the headlights for they would have revealed the menace of hidden mounds of dirt and bricks and other construction materials, but to have switched them on would have made the car too easy a target for the gunmen. Looking ahead, Bob saw the flashes of gunfire cease, as though the men who had been pulling the triggers were surprised and alarmed at the approach of the car. Then there was a spurt of flame and something smacked hard against the windshield. He saw the glass shatter, but it did not break, and it gave him new confidence in the knowledge that the car was protected against bullets. Now there were more flashes of crimson ahead of him and bullets spanked against the car. The glass of a headlight shattered into a thousand bits.