Frank advanced and took position behind Jack.
The latter drew back a bit, then dashed at the door. It was of stout oak, this door, but beneath Jack's weight, the lock was shattered.
As the lad plunged head foremost into the room, there were several sharp flashes as revolvers spat at him. A bullet plowed through his left shoulder, but he took no heed, nor did it even stop his rush.
At one side of the room stood three men with leveled revolvers. Into these Jack pitched headlong before they could fire again.
On the opposite side of the room stood two more men. Frank, dashing into the room right behind Jack, opened on these with his revolvers. One dropped before he could return the lad's fire, but a bullet from the second man's revolver grazed the lobe of Frank's right ear. But the man never fired again. Another bullet from Frank's automatic brought him to the floor.
Jack, when he pitched in among the three men, fired twice—once with each revolver. The enemy also fired, but their nerves were so unsteady at this unexpected rush that the bullets went wild.
Fighting was too close now to bring revolvers into play, so Jack used his automatics as clubs.
A man toppled over before a powerful blow. Frank now came to Jack's aid.
He poked his revolver into one man's back and commanded:
"Hands up!"