Stoddard was one of those who fell.
Bending over him, Professor Prescott lifted up his head.
"Jack!" he called. "Where are you hit? Answer me!"
"I—it seems to be in the shoulder," came the weak reply. "If you've got a handkerchief—"
The professor produced one and staunched the flow of blood as best he could, working with the aid of his flashlight.
Meanwhile, ahead, the crash of pistols and rifles continued to split the stillness of the passage, as the attacking party pressed forward.
"There—that does it!" gasped Stoddard, at length. "Help me up. I'll be all right."
Prescott steadied him to his feet. They continued on.
