Jean was struggling nervously with the door.
The Apaches paid no heed to the lad's cry.
"Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!"
The automatics of both lads spoke four times in rapid succession, and as many men fell to the floor. For a moment the Apaches fell back. In this moment Jean swung wide the door, and, picking up his revolver, rushed to the side of the two lads, while through the door streamed, one after another, the squad of French cavalrymen.
Some of the Apaches now produced revolvers and fired wildly at the approaching soldiers, and these, leveling their rifles, returned the fire.
Immediately the den became a scene of tumult. Wounded men screamed and others gave vent to their rage with fierce cries. Revolvers and rifles flashed on all sides.
Hal and Chester, immediately the firing had begun, had dropped to their knees, and so, as they still poured lead into the Apaches, the bullets of the latter went over their heads. Jean, however, was not so fortunate.
Realizing that there must have been treachery some place, Georges had naturally come to the conclusion that Jean was responsible for it, and had singled the little man out as his own particular mark. Paying no heed to the fighting that raged about him, he took careful aim and fired.
Jean gave a single cry, threw up his hands and fell squarely between Hal and Chester.
But the fight could have but one outcome. Outnumbered two to one, the Apaches were fighting a losing struggle. Half of their number lay dead on the floor, and many others were nursing serious wounds. As suddenly as it had begun, the fighting ceased, and the Apaches still on their feet raised their hands in the air.