“All right,” came his chum’s voice from above. “I’m here, but don’t you let those fellows get away.”
“Not a chance,” laughed Chester as Hal, Bowers and the others came up to him. “They’re in this room here, and I guess they’ll stay there until they get ready to surrender.”
“But the windows?” suggested Sergeant Bowers.
“Guarded,” replied Chester briefly. “By Jove, sergeant! You look like you had been in a fight.”
“So I have, sir,” declared the sergeant grimly, “but if you’ll bother to go to the top of yonder steps you’ll find half a dozen men who look a whole lot worse than I do.”
“I’ve no doubt of it, sergeant,” laughed Chester. “But you’d better have those wounds dressed.”
“Not until we’ve rounded up the gang in there, sir,” said Sergeant Bowers, pointing.
“Well, that should be simple enough,” declared Hal. “Break in the door, men!”
Three marines laid their shoulders to the door and heaved lustily. There was the sound of splintering wood, and the door flew open. The marines dropped hastily to the floor, anticipating a volley of rifle bullets, but no such volley came.
Instead, Hal and Chester, looking into the room, beheld an amusing sight.