“Have you got a gun with you?”
“Two.”
“Good. It is up to us to defend the house now, and save it from fire till assistance arrives if such a thing is possible. Those whom we have carried out will be safe where they are for the present—at least, as safe as we can make them. The electric lights have gone out, showing that the enemy has cut the wires. There is a fairly good starlight outside, and we ought to be able to pick off a few of the attackers before they can get into the house, don’t you think so?”
“All I ask is to get a bead on Rogers himself,” replied Tom grimly.
“Good. Kill him if you can. You are justified. He and his men will probably approach in a body. I have four revolvers here; two in my sleeves and two in my pockets. You have two, and that gives us thirty shots all told. We should give a fairly good account of ourselves, I think. You take the front of the house and I will take the rear. I want to be where I can cover the stable as well as the house.”
Nick had guessed the intentions of the man, Rogers, almost exactly. His followers did not, however, attack in one body, but in three.
There were a score or more of the men in each bunch, and one of these advanced toward the front of the house, another toward the rear, and the third approached the stable. Nick thus had a perfect view of some forty of the criminals.
He had opened wide the door where he was standing so that he could see to shoot without obstruction, and he stood so that he could, if necessary, kick the door shut at any moment.
The gang which attacked the stable reached their destination first, and as the leader reached out one hand to raise the latch of the door, one of the detective’s revolvers spoke, and the man dropped in his tracks as if he had been hit with a club.
Then, with one hand, Nick played upon the men at the stable-door, and with the other upon the men who were approaching the door where he was standing, and the reports of his shots sounded with the regularity and precision of the ticking of a watch as he fired.