started for the door with the same purpose held by
the boys--that of bottling up the other side. The two crawling trios
had brushed against each other in the middle of the floor.

Now three individual fights raged furiously on the floor of the cave
in Stygian darkness. Every man fought for his very life. The sob of
labored breathing was the only sound--that and the threshing about of
bodies.

Tom Bodine was sick with rage at his helplessness, for he dared not
shoot lest he hit one of the boys, and he could not see to take a
hand. He decided to try to find that button in the middle of the floor
of the outer cave which the enemy had used to throw off the lights.
If not that, perhaps there was a wall switch somewhere. In his pockets
was a box of safety matches. With these in his hands he started for
what he thought was the middle of the room.

Recklessly Tom struck and lighted matches, searching the floor for
that button, stopping after each match burned down to his fingers to
listen to the panting, heaving struggle going on about him.

At last he found the button and pressed it. Light once more flooded
both caves, dazzling to the eye after the pitch darkness of the moment
before. Jack and Frank were still tightly locked with their respective
foemen. But at the very moment the lights were switched on, Bob got
the upper hand of his man with a famous hold he had used to advantage
in winning his wrestling fame at school. There was a heave, and then
Bob straightened up and the other went hurtling through the air. He
was the American of the enemy trio.

The man fell on his left side, a yard or more away, by a quick twist
avoiding the descent on his head, which is the usual result of such a
wrestling toss. His right arm was outflung and, as he skidded along
the floor, the fingers of his right hand came in contact with a
revolver dropped by one of the wrestlers.

Twisting about like a cat, with a convulsive movement, the man came to
his knees and fired. There was a warning shout to Bob from Tom Bodine.
But the man's aim was far from steady, and the shot went wide.

Bob leaped forward as if shot from a catapult, letting out a wild yell
as he did so. It was a tremendous leap from a standing position, and
he descended feet first on the other before he could discharge the
revolver again. Beneath the impact of Bob's weight the man went down
like a shot rabbit and lay still. Bob disarmed him, turned him on his
face, pulled his