A bullet whistled close to the head of Sam Hickey. The latter made a dive for the man who had fired the shot, and ere the fellow could pull the trigger for another shot, Hickey's fist had struck him on the jaw, laying the fellow flat on his back.
"Whoop!" howled the boy. "That's the way we do the thing in the good old United States."
Dan was having a lively battle with two men, each of whom held a knife in his hand and was making quick thrusts at the lad, who was quickly diving in and out.
All at once Dan's foot came up. It caught one of the men on the wrist of his knife hand. The fellow uttered a yell and his knife went soaring up into the air. Dan tried to serve the other assailant in the same way, but instead of reaching the man's wrist, the kick caught the fellow in the stomach. This answered quite as well. With a groan the robber fell down heavily.
"Lay in! We've got them!" yelled Davis.
"I am laying in," answered Sam. "Lay—lay in yourself. Whoop! That was a beauty. I spun him like a top. He's spinning yet! Watch him, Dan!"
Dan knew better than to turn his head. Three desperate men were now seeking to surround and put an end to his fighting abilities. Dan found them more difficult to handle than he had those others who had gone down under his sturdy blows.
In the meantime the women had sprung into their carriage, and the driver, whipping up his horses, had started away.
Attracted by the uproar, a squad of gendarmes were bearing down on the scene on the run.
"Robbers!" yelled the driver in French as he swept past the officers of the law.