The windows were smashed.
The doors flew open as if by magic.
“Now’s our time,” said Ned, and, followed by the innkeeper, Bob Bertram, and Tim, rushed out sword in hand.
By the light of the burning dwelling and stables the fight was continued, and now more desperately than ever.
Tim, in his hurry to rush out and get away, stumbled into the deep hole made by the explosion.
He had scarcely reached the bottom, however, when one of Death-wing’s band seized him, and almost squeezed him to death.
Tim was now bound to fight or die, and as he much preferred the former condition of the two, he kicked and bit and fought like a tiger, each one of them rolling over one another by turns, and almost burying themselves in the loose earth.
Wildfire Ned sought out Death-wing, but nowhere could that remorseless chief be found.
He called upon him to stand forth and engage in deadly combat, but there was no response to this bold challenge.
When least expected, however, and when in the fulness of his vigorous onslaught upon the grim gang, he, Wildfire Ned, was seized by some one from behind!