"Guns, Chester," he said quietly, halting in his tracks. "They are using knives."
"Good," said Chester, also halting. "Back to back."
The lads whipped out their automatics simultaneously, and, back to back, confronted the crowd. Hal spoke.
"We are not spies," he shouted, "but we are not going to be killed without a fight. We are British army officers. Stand back!"
Before the threatening muzzles of the two automatics the crowd hesitated. Then, from directly ahead of Chester, a shot rang out. The lad heard something whiz past his head, and from beyond came a cry of pain.
"Shot one of his own number," muttered the lad.
His finger tightened on the trigger as he saw a man about to leap forward regardless of the automatic.
"I'm going to shoot, Hal," he called.
"I guess it can't be helped," replied the lad quietly. "When I give the word turn loose on 'em, and then we'll make another break."
He hesitated a single instant and then called: