"Not to please you, though!" growled Dowley, as he leaped to his feet. He still retained his grip on the bludgeon. "Drop that club," ordered Hal sternly. "You clear out!" "Drop that club!" "Make me." "You're determined to act foolishly, aren't you?" demanded Hal with the ring of contempt in his voice. "I'm bound to do as I please," leered Dowley viciously. "You can't when you're in arrest," replied Hal. "But I'm not in arrest." "I've already told you that you are," Hal insisted coolly. "I don't take my facts from a kid like you," sneered Dowley, edging closer. "Get back!" warned Soldier Hal. But Dowley, grasping the club tighter, made a sudden lunge. Bang! Hal fired his second shot. Not even now did he aim to hit. The bullet whizzed past Dowley's left ear. But that fellow, who had seen the quick pressure of Soldier Hal's finger on the trigger, threw himself flat to the floor once more, and this time the club rolled from his hand. "I mean business, and it will be better for all of you to understand it," Private Overton announced. "Get up, Dowley, and you three men form in single file. Corporal Minturn, you take the lead." "I'll take it in another way," leered the corporal, bending and snatching up the club. "Hooper, you pin the kid's arms!" Hooper made a move on Hal's other side. The soldier boy had to dodge to avoid being seized. As he did so Dowley leaped up from the floor to join in the attack from in front. Again Hal Overton raised his service revolver, though with no more intention than before of wounding any of the ugly trio. But Corporal Minturn, as his muddled brain now figured it, had to strike in self-defense. Whack! It was a lusty blow, backed by venom and muscle. Private Hal Overton simply crumpled up and fell to the floor, motionless. "You sneaking dogs!" rang Private Hyman's scornful voice from the doorway. "Get your hands up now, all of you, or there'll be some real war!" Backing Hyman, Noll Terry darted into the room. Hal's first shot had not been heard, but Hyman's quick ear had heard the second. Scenting trouble, in an instant Hyman had summoned Private Terry, who just then appeared on the street, and both had dashed into this place. "Get your hands up, all of you, before I shoot fast and hard to square matters for the kid!" Hyman now insisted savagely. Noll got a glimpse of Hal lying on the floor, and added savagely: "Oh, I'm just itching for an excuse to shoot!" There could be no doubt of the temper of these newcomers. Danger partially sobered these ugly ones. Up went their hands without further delay. "Put your hands down, just one at a time," continued Hyman. "Terry, you take Corporal Minturn first and iron him." Click! Snap! Minturn was in no position to do further harm. It was Hooper's turn next. That big fellow was utterly cowed and began to talk rather whiningly. "Hold your tongue!" commanded Noll angrily.