uval staggered headlong.
Before he could recover his balance, Chester, getting a good start,
hurled himself forward as he had been wont to do on the football
field--but not in a tackle--and Duval, unable to entirely recover
himself, found himself being pushed rapidly across the room.

In vain did he strike out at the lad with his one free arm. His blows
fell short. Chester, with lowered head, continued to push, and Duval was
unable to check this impetus.

Straight back and back the Apache chief was forced. Then his legs came
into contact with something that caused him to cry out in despair. This
something was the edge of the low window, and Duval realized in an
instant that he was on the threshold of death.

But his cry came too late, and it is doubtful if Chester, thoroughly
aroused as he was, would have released his victim anyhow. There was a
sound of cracking glass, as Duval's head was forced against the
window pane, and Chester, hearing it, released his hold and stepped
back quickly.

And the lad stepped back none too soon. Another foot forward, and he,
too, would have gone hurtling through the window to the street.

There was a screeching cry as Duval crashed head foremost through the
window and went tumbling to the street below. He struck head first upon
the hard sidewalk, crushing his skull; while a shower of glass crashed
tinkling about him.

Immediately the crowd below surged about him, striking with weapons of
all kinds at his defenseless body. Some even jumped and trampled upon it.

At this moment, from around a corner came a troop of cavalry, attracted
by the news that the would-be assassin of the President had been
cornered--for news of this kind travels swiftly--and now they rushed to
the body of Duval, as eager to protect him as a moment ago they would
have been to slay him.

The crowd, with growls and shouted threats, drew off.

Upstairs Chester bent over the prostrate form of Hal and gently raised
his chum's head to his knee. Slowly the lad opened his eyes.

"How do you feel, old man?" asked Chester.

Hal passed his hand over his head.

"Somewhat dizzy," he replied, "but where is Duval?"

"Dead, I guess," said Chester, "I tumbled him out the window on
his head."

"Good! Am I hurt much?"

"No; the blow didn't even break the skin, but it has raised a pretty
sizable bump on your head."

"All right, then. Help me up."

Chester lent a supporting arm, and Hal scrambled to his feet, where