It was his sudden football tackle, learned on the gridiron at West Point, that had seized Blick and spoiled the latter's aim. Now, all three went down in an ugly clinch. Officer and soldier were fighting to pin Blick's arms to his side and thus render him helpless. Bang! bang! Bang! bang! bang! To Blick it was little concern whether he lived or died. If he must go under in the fight he intended at least to do all the mischief he could. So he fired, even while Prescott and Hal were fighting desperately to pin his arms and spoil his aim. Fortunately, none of these five bullets did any harm. But the three locked together were fighting like panthers. If Blick could but wriggle out of the clutch long enough to get either hand free, he would stand a very good chance to kill one or both of his assailants. Neither the lieutenant or the soldier boy dared fire in this scrambling clinch. Each feared to kill the other. Then Blick briefly got an arm free. Bang! bang! CHAPTER XV THE BATTLE OF THEIR LIVES At the first sign of trouble the few people in the post office lobby had devoted their entire energies to getting away. Nor did any of the postal employés appear to offer aid. They had little stomach for such a deadly affair as this was certain to be. And Noll? At the first note of Prescott's voice, as the lieutenant leaped at Blick, Private Terry had dropped below the level of the window ledge. There his hand closed on his revolver. With this in hand, he bounded for the door that the young Army officer had left open. But all this took time, and what was going on in the post office lobby outside seemed to take place in split seconds. Noll had just bounded out in sight of the scramble for life as Blick fired the last two shots. Even as the wretch pressed the trigger, however, Hal Overton took another quick grip on the fellow's wrist. Thus was the soldier boy's life saved for the instant. But the weapons that Blick carried were automatic revolvers, each holding nine cartridges. The scoundrel therefore held several lives in his hands if he could only get a chance to free his wrists sufficiently. Still the three fought, rolled and scrambled across the floor. Now, Private Noll Terry was hovering over the combatants. At first the strenuous trio moved with such bewildering speed and were so hopelessly mixed up that Noll actually wondered what he could do. At last he saw his chance and tried for it. Whack! Clubbing his revolver, Soldier Noll brought the butt of the weapon down with fearful force--on some one's head. By sheer good luck it proved to be Blick's head. Almost completely stunned, Blick rolled over on his back, Lieutenant Prescott bearing down on one of Blick's arms, while Hal Overton held the other. Leaping around, Noll thrust the muzzle of his own revolver into Blick's mouth. "Shall I pull the trigger, sir?" demanded Noll coolly.