The hurtling figure struck the floor, somersaulted, and, with its guns spitting fire, bounced to its feet. The Yuma Kid’s guns came into play first, then Baldy’s and Cupid Dart’s. The room was filled with a continuous bellow of hellish noise, clouds of acrid smoke, and streams of fire. Then, above the boom of guns, came a grinding smash, overwhelming all the other noises by its volume.
Every man in the room now had his gun out, firing at that bounding figure. Allen was in lightning action; he leaped by one man, spun about, and used him for a shield. His guns empty, he snatched out another pair from his holsters. The Yuma Kid fired at him. Flame from the gun burned his cheek, but the shot missed. As he ducked by the Kid, Allen fired in turn. The gunman stood for a moment with a startled look on his face, took two or three tottering steps, and fell straight forward on his face.
Smash! Smash!
The heavy battering ram beat at the door. The thick oak splintered, hung by one hinge.
The room was full of smoke cut by lightning, and through it the judge saw Allen leaping, ducking, and dodging. He was slower now; but always red flame poured in continuous streams from his two guns.
Cupid Dart was down, sprawled across the table. The Toad, one hand clutching his chest, was trying to bring his wavering gun on Allen.
Another crash, the door came down. Led by Sam Hogg, men poured into the room. A few more shots, and it was over.
The judge had not moved from his position before the table. Scarcely a minute had passed since Allen came flying through the window. Yet death had struck on all hands.
“Yuh all right, judge?” Sam Hogg bawled hoarsely.
The judge was speechless. Tom Powers ran through the swirling smoke and threw his arm around Ransom’s shoulders. Slowly the dense, blue-white fog melted away and revealed the wreckage.