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."