The assailant sprang back, and turned, in a mad determination to
crash his way out through the locked door behind, but as suddenly stopped
startled by the vision of a levelled revolver pointed at his head.
"Not a move," the girl said icily. "Take one step, and I'll kill you."
Hobart lifted his head groggily, and pushed himself half-way up on
his knees.
"Don't shoot unless he makes you, Del," he ordered grimly. "We don't want
that kind of row here." He dragged himself painfully to the side door,
and pressed it open.
"Hey you!" he cried. "Come on out here. Now then, rough-house this guy!"
CHAPTER XXXI
McADAMS BLOWS IN
It was a real fight; they all knew that when it was finished. But it was
three to one, with Hobart blocking the only open door, and egging them
on, and the excited girl, backed into a corner out of the way, the
revolver still gripped in her hand, ready for any emergency. The
narrowness of the hall alone afforded West a chance, as the walls
protected him, and compelled direct attack from in front. Yet this
advantage only served to delay the ending. He recognized two of the
fellows--"Red" Hogan and Mark--while the third man was a wiry little
bar-room scrapper, who smashed fiercely in through his guard, and finally
got a grip on his throat which could not be wrenched loose. The others
pounded him unmercifully, driving his head back against the wall. Hogan
smashed him twice, crashing through his weak attempt at defence, and with
the second vicious drive, West went down for the count, lying motionless
on the floor, scarcely conscious that he was still living.
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