CHAPTER XXIX.
THE DEATH OF DUVAL.
"What's going on here?" cried Hal angrily, as he twisted sharply on the upraised arm.
The man who held the wrench writhed in pain beneath the lad's strong fingers and he dropped the wrench and turned on Hal angrily.
"What business is it of yours?" he demanded.
"I've made it my business," said Hal. "He is a friend of mine."
Unmindful of the threatening gestures of the others, he stooped and gently lifted Chester's head. The latter was not badly hurt, and he was soon upon his feet.
"Where did he go?" he cried excitedly.
"Where did who go?" asked Hal.
"Duval—the man I was chasing. He attempted to assassinate the
President."
A cry of surprise went up from those surrounding the two lads, and they pressed forward with eager questions. No longer were they enemies of the two lads. Word that an attempt had been made on the life of the President caused them to forget other troubles.
"He went that way," said one of them, pointing.
"After him," cried another, and the crowd dashed forward. Others of the mob that had given chase arrived by this time and also continued the chase.
"There is no use running after him," said Hal, as Chester also would have continued the pursuit.
"But we must get him!"
"I have an idea that I shall be able to find him," said Hal quietly.
"You know where he is?"
"I think I know where he will seek refuge."
Quickly he related his experiences to Chester.
"Come on, then," cried the latter eagerly. "Let's get away before he gets back, finds his friend dead and leaves the house."
The lads hurried forward and, by going directly toward the house, arrived there before the first of the crowd came into view.
Even as Hal had expected, Duval, believing that he had eluded his pursuers, made a detour and entered his home from a side entrance. From an upper window, a few moments later, he saw the first of the crowd. They had no idea he was in the house and went dashing by. He did not see the forms of the two lads across the street.
"I guess I'm safe enough for a while," he said to himself.
He made his way toward the bedroom, where he surmised his lieutenant would be sleeping. He entered the room, took a single look and staggered back.
His eyes had fallen upon the inert body of his aide.
Quickly he bent over him and felt his pulse.
"Dead!" he exclaimed.
He stood silent, struck by a sudden thought. Quickly he descended the steps into the cellar and approached the room where Hal had been left to die. The door was open and water trickled from within.
Duval uttered no word but, turning quickly, dashed up the steps. Once more he looked from the window, and the first figures upon which his eyes rested were Hal and Chester.
The boys, in the meantime, had halted the mad crowd and briefly explained that the object of their search was in the house. They were engaged in this occupation when Duval peered from the window the second time.
The Apache chief smiled grimly to himself. He produced his automatic and aimed at the two lads. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"Crack!"
Hal's cap seemed to leap from his head, and instinctively all of the crowd ducked. Then, with a terrible roar, they charged straight at the house.
But Duval, standing in an upper window, emptied one automatic into the howling mob and then another.
The crowd drew back.
While all this was going on, Hal had led Chester to the window leading into the basement, and silently the lads lowered themselves through it. Then, as the mob raged without, they made their way up the steps, through the hall, and up a second flight.
There, at the head of the stairs, they paused. Before them were two rooms, and they were not certain in which the Apache chief had taken refuge.
"You take the one on the right, Chester," whispered Hal.
Chester nodded and they advanced, Chester toward the door on the right and Hal toward the one on the left. They opened the doors upon the same instant.
But Duval had heard sounds in the hall, and his quick wit had detected the ruse. Therefore, when the lads flung open the doors, there was no one to be seen in either room. They turned and stared at each other blankly, and as they did so a bullet whistled between them.
Duval, stepping from behind the door where he had been concealed, had opened fire on them.
"Down!" cried Chester, and dropped to the floor.
Hal followed suit.
Both raised their weapons, but Duval was not in sight, so they did not fire. Slowly they got to their feet again, and dashed into the room where they now knew the Apache chief to be.
Hal went first. As he cleared the doorway, he was met by Duval himself, who, with the butt of his revolver, dealt the lad a heavy blow on the head. Hal fell like a log.
But Chester had been right at Hal's heels and before Duval could raise his weapon to fire, or bring it down on the lad's head, Chester had clinched with him.
With his two arms beneath those of the Apache chief, Chester brought them up, and, reaching over his shoulder, clasped hands under Duval's chin.
But Duval was a powerful man, and broke this hold with ease, even as the lad exerted his utmost strength in an attempt to strangle his opponent.
Chester staggered back, but rushed into another clinch as Duval raised his revolver. Ducking, Chester drove his fist to his opponent's chin, even as the latter pressed the trigger. The bullet whistled harmlessly over his head.
With a quick, upward stroke of his left arm, Chester sent his enemy's revolver spinning through the air. Deprived of this weapon, Duval sought to bring his greater strength to bear and overpower the lad.
Chester realized that in strength he was no match for Duval, and knew that what he lacked in this respect he must make up in agility and cunning.
Therefore, he slipped from his opponent's grasp, and, sidestepping, struck Duval a stinging blow just above the right ear. Duval staggered back, then came forward with a cry of rage.
The Apache chief realized the need of haste, for he could already distinguish the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall below. He hoped, by freeing himself from Chester, who had now grappled with him again, that he could gain a moment's advantage, jump into the next room, dash through the hall and descend by the rear before the crowd came upon him.
Accordingly, he exerted himself to his utmost, and Chester gave ground. Then the lad stepped suddenly backward, and Duval 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 he swayed dizzily for a few seconds. Then the dizziness passed, and he walked toward the door with Chester.
Just as they were about to leave the room they stepped back to allow a newcomer to enter. The newcomer was General Gallieni, and he advanced with outstretched hands.
"You lads have proved your worth," he said, seizing each warmly by the hand. "And now, if you will lead us to the den of the Apache conspirators, your work will be finished."
"All right, General, follow us," said Chester.
He led the way downstairs.