knife a vicious dig into the crack between the door and the surrounding floor. At the same time the besiegers struck the street door a terrific blow with the end of a steel rail which had been brought up from the railroad camp.
Just exactly what happened, Billie was at first unable to realize. All he knew was that the trap door, upon which he was leaning with one hand, had given way beneath him, and he was falling head first down a flight of stairs.
Picking himself up as soon as he struck bottom, which was not more than six feet, he started to ascend the stairs, but at the second step his head came into contact with the floor.
The trap door had flown back into its place.
[CHAPTER XXIII.—BILLIE SOLVES A MYSTERY.]
“Ouch!” exclaimed Billie, as his head came into contact with the door. “I wonder what——” and then he stopped and listened.
Overhead he could hear the sound of stamping feet and the sound of shots. After a couple of minutes there was silence, which was more ominous than the sound of fighting.
For a moment Billie’s heart fairly stopped beating with fear for what might have happened to his companions. Had they been killed or simply overpowered? What was he to do?
Even while these thoughts flashed through his mind the silence was broken by voices, and above all the others he could hear that of Don Rafael, which he had now come to recognize.
“Bring them out into the light where I can get a good look at them,” he ordered. “The gringo curs! We’ll have a nice little shooting party at daylight that will make them an example for others who want to spy upon Mexican patriots!”