The young man seized the prisoner fiercely by the throat.
“Show me the way!” he demanded.
The captive still pointed to the masked entrance across the corridor and Sam drew him along, almost by main force. When they came to the narrow passage at the eastern end of which the barred gate stood, they saw a finger of light directed into the interior of the apartment.
While they looked, Sam scarcely knowing what course to pursue, two more shots sounded from within, and the odor of burned powder became almost unbearable. Sam threw himself against the iron gate and shouted out:
“Jimmie! Carl!”
“Here!” cried a voice out of the smoke. “Come to the gate with your gun. I missed the last shot, and Carl is down!”
Still pushing the prisoner ahead of him, Sam crowded through the narrow passage and stood looking over the fellow’s shoulder into the smoke-scented room beyond. His electric light showed Jimmie standing with his back against the gate, his feet pushed out to protect the figure of Carl, lying on the floor against the bars. The searchlight in the boy’s hand was waving rhythmically in the direction of a pair of gleaming eyes which looked out of the darkness.
“My gun is empty!” Jimmie almost whispered. “I’ll hold the light straight in his eyes, and you shoot through the bars.”
Sam forced the captive down on the corridor, where he would be out of the way and still secure from escape, and fired two shots at the blood-mad eyes inside. The great beast fell to the floor instantly and lay still for a small fraction of a second then leaped to his feet again.
With jaws wide open and fangs showing threateningly, he sprang toward Jimmie, but another shot from Sam’s automatic finished the work the others had begun. Jimmie sank to the floor like one bereft of strength.