A second shot followed instantly. Newton Mills had gone into action. His bullet entered the robber’s heart. He fell back dead. The other man turned to flee down the stairs. He was struck down by a blow from Herman’s gun.
In the meantime, what of Johnny? Astonishing things were happening to him. Hardly had he entered the alley than someone sprang around a corner of masonry and, without noting him, began to approach.
The light of a street lamp fell on his back. Johnny recognized him instantly. He had a face that was like a mask. It was Jimmie McGowan.
Scarcely had Johnny stepped back to nock an arrow, than the other saw him.
Among people of his own kind this youth, Jimmie McGowan, was known as the quickest trigger in all gangland. Nor was an automatic lacking.
What saved Johnny? One curious circumstance. As the gangster came to a halt, a weird red light, from no one will ever know where, fell upon Johnny and his bow. His arrow was turned to a thing of flaming red.
It was this weird light that sent cold terror to the gangster’s heart. The hand that did not falter at the dealing of death was paralyzed by fear of that which could not be understood, the arrow of fire.
Before the gangster’s hand could regain its cunning, a missile came crashing into his shoulder. It was Johnny’s arrow. The gun went clattering to the pavement. Next instant, with the force of a tiger, Johnny leaped upon mask-faced Jimmie McGowan and bore him to the ground.
In the meantime Herman had made fast work of the second robber. Having knocked him down, he had him in handcuffs at once. As he turned the fellow over, more than five thousand dollars in currency dropped from beneath his coat.
Drew had noted the direction Johnny had taken. As soon as possible he followed in his wake. He found Johnny sitting on the chest of Jimmie McGowan. A feathered arrow protruded from Jimmie’s shoulder.