He had heard Iris' last scream, also the noise of the automatic, and he blew a loud blast on a shrill whistle, as he hurried to the girl.
Nearing the three, Fibsy's quick eyes saw the pistol on the ground, and he snatched it up, and aimed it straight at the masked man.
"Hands up!" he cried, and Pollock turned to see a small but dauntless-looking boy threatening him.
Again endangered by his own firearm, Pollock stood at bay, raging but impotent in the face of the steady aim of the boy.
In another moment Stone came, with Campbell, in the Pell car and Iris breathed freely once more, as she felt stealthily for the pin in her belt ribbon. It was safe, and she sank down on the ground, satisfied to let the newcomers take charge of the whole matter.
This they did with neatness and dispatch.
Bidding Fibsy keep the two men covered with the small but efficacious weapon, Stone and Campbell tied the hands of Pollock and his man Bob, using the dustrobe from Pollock's car, cut into strips for the purpose.
Then they bundled them unceremoniously into their own car and Stone himself took the wheel.
Campbell drove Iris home, but Fibsy traveled with his chief.
The boy was thrilling with satisfaction at the way things were turning out, and not at all vain-glorious over his own part in the affair.