"We know mighty well that we shall have to pay for it devilish soon if we don't," retorted Bunce; "and that's enough for us to know. Let 'em have it, boys!" and at least half a dozen shots were fired, and one of the detectives was slightly wounded.
"Fire!" exclaimed Old Spicer, in a determined voice, and as each detective had two revolvers, eight shots rang out, and two of the enemy fell dead, while four more were wounded, Jake Klinkhammer being among the latter.
The firing now became general, and it was difficult to say who was getting the best of it, when the door from the saloon was suddenly thrown open and the boy's voice was heard to exclaim:
"Scatter! the cops are coming!"
Almost in an instant the place was cleared of Bunce's men, and a moment later a sergeant of police, followed by six men, entered.
[CHAPTER XX.]
JAKE KLINKHAMMER'S POCKETBOOK—OLD SPICER SURPRISED.
"Ah! sergeant, you never were more welcome," cried Rouse. "Grab that young whelp in the saloon, and then let's see who's hurt here."
"The boy's all right," returned the sergeant. "One of my men has him fast; but who the deuce are you?"