"Ghost, go away!" he exclaimed.

Hal laughed loudly, and it was no ghost laugh, either. The man in the bed sat up.

"How did you get out of there?" he demanded, as if it were the most momentous question in the world.

"I blew the lock off the door," replied Hal calmly.

"But your gun? You had no gun."

"Oh, yes, I had," smiled Hal. "I had two of 'em, and I've got 'em yet. See?"

He pointed both straight at the head of his late captor.

"Now," he said quietly, "get up and get out of there."

"What are you going to do with me?" asked the man in alarm.

"Deliver you into the care of General Gallieni."

The Apache lieutenant slowly moved toward the edge of the bed and Hal lowered his weapons. This act almost proved the lad's undoing.

A second revolver suddenly flashed in the hand of the man in the bed, and he cried in a stern voice:

"Hands up!"

Hal, taken absolutely by surprise, could do nothing but obey.

"You see the tables are turned again," said the man in the bed pleasantly. "You should always remember that a man may keep one of his revolvers under his pillow."

Hal was crestfallen, and he showed it plainly. However, he still held his own weapons in his upraised hands, and he had no mind to release the weapons if there was any way in which he could avoid it.

"Put those guns on the table, and be quick about it," ordered his enemy and slipped from the bed to the floor.

Hal advanced slowly toward the table, and laid down the revolver he held in his right hand. The man in the bed took a step toward him. It was the moment for which the lad had been waiting and he acted instantly.

Slowly his weapon came down, and then it suddenly flashed in the Apache's face as the lad's hand pressed the trigger.

A miss was impossible. Hal had made up his mind that he would trifle with his opponent no longer. He realized fully that his own life depended upon his getting the upper hand and that it was no time to be squeamish.

Accordingly, when the opportunity presented itself, he fired pointblank in his opponent's face. The latter threw up his hands, gave out a single loud scream of pain, and toppled backward to the floor in a heap.

Hal bent over him. "Dead," he said simply. "Now to get out of this."

He left the house and made his way with all speed toward the Hotel de Ville. But he had not gone a block when he beheld, in a little store he was passing, a scene of confusion. The lad stopped and peered in. He made out Chester's figure and, instantly realizing his danger, dashed forward.

He arrived just in time to catch an uplifted arm that would have crushed Chester's head with a heavy wrench.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE DEATH OF DUVAL.

"What's going on here?" cried Hal angrily, as he twisted sharply on the upraised arm.

The man who held the wrench writhed in pain beneath the lad's strong fingers and he dropped the wrench and turned on Hal angrily.

"What business is it of yours?" he demanded.

"I've made it my business," said Hal. "He is a friend of mine."

Unmindful of the threatening gestures of the others, he stooped and gently lifted Chester's head. The latter was not badly hurt, and he was soon upon his feet.

"Where did he go?" he cried excitedly.

"Where did who go?" asked Hal.

"Duval—the man I was chasing. He attempted to assassinate the President."

A cry of surprise went up from those surrounding the two lads, and they pressed forward with eager questions. No longer were they enemies of the two lads. Word that an attempt had been made on the life of the President caused them to forget other troubles.

"He went that way," said one of them, pointing.

"After him," cried another, and the crowd dashed forward. Others of the mob that had given chase arrived by this time and also continued the chase.

"There is no use running after him," said Hal, as Chester also would have continued the pursuit.

"But we must get him!"

"I have an idea that I shall be able to find him," said Hal quietly.

"You know where he is?"

"I think I know where he will seek refuge."

Quickly he related his experiences to Chester.

"Come on, then," cried the latter eagerly. "Let's get away before he gets back, finds his friend dead and leaves the house."

The lads hurried forward and, by going directly toward the house, arrived there before the first of the crowd came into view.

Even as Hal had expected, Duval, believing that he had eluded his pursuers, made a detour and entered his home from a side entrance. From an upper window, a few moments later, he saw the first of the crowd. They had no idea he was in the house and went dashing by. He did not see the forms of the two lads across the street.

"I guess I'm safe enough for a while," he said to himself.

He made his way toward the bedroom, where he surmised his lieutenant would be sleeping. He entered the room, took a single look and staggered back.

His eyes had fallen upon the inert body of his aide.

Quickly he bent over him and felt his pulse.

"Dead!" he exclaimed.

He stood silent, struck by a sudden thought. Quickly he descended the steps into the cellar and approached the room where Hal had been left to die. The door was open and water trickled from within.

Duval uttered no word but, turning quickly, dashed up the steps. Once more he looked from the window, and the first figures upon which his eyes rested were Hal and Chester.

The boys, in the meantime, had halted the mad crowd and briefly explained that the object of their search was in the house. They were engaged in this occupation when Duval peered from the window the second time.

The Apache chief smiled grimly to himself. He produced his automatic and aimed at the two lads. His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Crack!"

Hal's cap seemed to leap from his head, and instinctively all of the crowd ducked. Then, with a terrible roar, they charged straight at the house.

But Duval, standing in an upper window, emptied one automatic into the howling mob and then another.

The crowd drew back.

While all this was going on, Hal had led Chester to the window leading into the basement, and silently the lads lowered themselves through it. Then, as the mob raged without, they made their way up the steps, through the hall, and up a second flight.

There, at the head of the stairs, they paused. Before them were two rooms, and they were not certain in which the Apache chief had taken refuge.

"You take the one on the right, Chester," whispered Hal.

Chester nodded and they advanced, Chester toward the door on the right and Hal toward the one on the left. They opened the doors upon the same instant.

But Duval had heard sounds in the hall, and his quick wit had detected the ruse. Therefore, when the lads flung open the doors, there was no one to be seen in either room. They turned and stared at each other blankly, and as they did so a bullet whistled between them.

Duval, stepping from behind the door where he had been concealed, had opened fire on them.

"Down!" cried Chester, and dropped to the floor.

Hal followed suit.

Both raised their weapons, but Duval was not in sight, so they did not fire. Slowly they got to their feet again, and dashed into the room where they now knew the Apache chief to be.

Hal went first. As he cleared the doorway, he was met by Duval himself, who, with the butt of his revolver, dealt the lad a heavy blow on the head. Hal fell like a log.

But Chester had been right at Hal's heels and before Duval could raise his weapon to fire, or bring it down on the lad's head, Chester had clinched with him.

With his two arms beneath those of the Apache chief, Chester brought them up, and, reaching over his shoulder, clasped hands under Duval's chin.

But Duval was a powerful man, and broke this hold with ease, even as the lad exerted his utmost strength in an attempt to strangle his opponent.

Chester staggered back, but rushed into another clinch as Duval raised his revolver. Ducking, Chester drove his fist to his opponent's chin, even as the latter pressed the trigger. The bullet whistled harmlessly over his head.

With a quick, upward stroke of his left arm, Chester sent his enemy's revolver spinning through the air. Deprived of this weapon, Duval sought to bring his greater strength to bear and overpower the lad.

Chester realized that in strength he was no match for Duval, and knew that what he lacked in this respect he must make up in agility and cunning.

Therefore, he slipped from his opponent's grasp, and, sidestepping, struck Duval a stinging blow just above the right ear. Duval staggered back, then came forward with a cry of rage.

The Apache chief realized the need of haste, for he could already distinguish the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall below. He hoped, by freeing himself from Chester, who had now grappled with him again, that he could gain a moment's advantage, jump into the next room, dash through the hall and descend by the rear before the crowd came upon him.

Accordingly, he exerted himself to his utmost, and Chester gave ground. Then the lad stepped suddenly backward, and Duval staggered headlong. Before he could recover his balance, Chester, getting a good start, hurled himself forward as he had been wont to do on the football field—but not in a tackle—and Duval, unable to entirely recover himself, found himself being pushed rapidly across the room.

In vain did he strike out at the lad with his one free arm. His blows fell short. Chester, with lowered head, continued to push, and Duval was unable to check this impetus.

Straight back and back the Apache chief was forced. Then his legs came into contact with something that caused him to cry out in despair. This something was the edge of the low window, and Duval realized in an instant that he was on the threshold of death.

But his cry came too late, and it is doubtful if Chester, thoroughly aroused as he was, would have released his victim anyhow. There was a sound of cracking glass, as Duval's head was forced against the window pane, and Chester, hearing it, released his hold and stepped back quickly.

And the lad stepped back none too soon. Another foot forward, and he, too, would have gone hurtling through the window to the street.

There was a screeching cry as Duval crashed head foremost through the window and went tumbling to the street below. He struck head first upon the hard sidewalk, crushing his skull; while a shower of glass crashed tinkling about him.

Immediately the crowd below surged about him, striking with weapons of all kinds at his defenseless body. Some even jumped and trampled upon it.

At this moment, from around a corner came a troop of cavalry, attracted by the news that the would-be assassin of the President had been cornered—for news of this kind travels swiftly—and now they rushed to the body of Duval, as eager to protect him as a moment ago they would have been to slay him.

The crowd, with growls and shouted threats, drew off.

Upstairs Chester bent over the prostrate form of Hal and gently raised his chum's head to his knee. Slowly the lad opened his eyes.

"How do you feel, old man?" asked Chester.

Hal passed his hand over his head.

"Somewhat dizzy," he replied, "but where is Duval?"

"Dead, I guess," said Chester, "I tumbled him out the window on his head."

"Good! Am I hurt much?"

"No; the blow didn't even break the skin, but it has raised a pretty sizable bump on your head."

"All right, then. Help me up."

Chester lent a supporting arm, and Hal scrambled to his feet, where he swayed dizzily for a few seconds. Then the dizziness passed, and he walked toward the door with Chester.

Just as they were about to leave the room they stepped back to allow a newcomer to enter. The newcomer was General Gallieni, and he advanced with outstretched hands.

"You lads have proved your worth," he said, seizing each warmly by the hand. "And now, if you will lead us to the den of the Apache conspirators, your work will be finished."

"All right, General, follow us," said Chester.

He led the way downstairs.



CHAPTER XXX.

THE END OF THE TRAIL.

Hal, still somewhat dizzy, followed close upon the heels of his friend, and behind him came General Gallieni. In the street, at a command from the general, the lads halted, and the military governor dispatched an aide to summon a squad of cavalry.

"We might as well do this right," he remarked to the lads.

Ten minutes later the squad appeared, and the general, mounting his own horse, which had been standing by, placed himself at their head. Then he motioned the lads to climb up before two of the soldiers and point out the way to the den.

This the lads did, and soon the squad was trotting briskly along the streets.

Some distance from the rendezvous Hal called a halt, and jumped lightly to the ground. Chester and General Gallieni also dismounted.

"I believe it would be a good idea for my friend and I to go first," said Hal to the general. "We are still in our Apache togs. One of your men can come with us, so as to be able to point out the way. Then he can return and bring you. In the meantime we can see that the door is left open."

General Gallieni assented to this plan, and Hal, Chester and one soldier made their way forward.

Hal recognized the little frame house at once, but just as he was about to enter a figure stole softly across the street and took Chester by the arm.

It was Jean.

"You won't be able to open the door in the passageway," he said in a low tone.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Chester. "How do you happen to be here?"

"I expected that there would be a raid," was the reply, "and I came to help you. You had better let me take the lead."

"All right," said Chester, and he explained the situation to Hal.

Jean now took the lead, and they entered the house. Once more they traversed the dark passageway, and Jean opened the door in the dark and led the way to the room beyond. Here Hal motioned for the soldier to return and bring the others—the door had been left open—and the trooper hurried away.

Hal approached the room and knocked sharply on the door—three light taps, followed by one loud tap. There came to their ears the sound of a scraping chair, the door was unbarred and unbolted, and Georges peered through. He recognized the three figures in the passageway, and threw wide the door.

"Successful?" he asked eagerly as the three entered.

"Yes," said Chester briefly.

"Bien!"

The others in the room, of whom there were perhaps fifty, also crowded around and patted Chester and Jean on the back, profuse in their congratulations.

The three sat down at the table, where Chester, in response to Georges' request, began an account of the supposed assassination.

"I suppose the chief will soon be here," he broke off to say.

"And then," said Georges, rubbing his hands, "we shall receive our gold. Did you see the chief in the crowd?"

"Yes; he was there, all right," said Chester.

Now came to Chester's ears the sound of stealthy footsteps in the passageway beyond the door, which Georges had barred and bolted immediately they had entered. The lad got nonchalantly to his feet and walked slowly toward the door.

Hal and Jean also had heard the sound of footsteps, and they now ranged themselves on either side of Chester.

Suddenly the revolvers of all three flashed out and covered the crowd of Apaches, as Chester's voice rang out sternly:

"Throw up your hands, all of you!"

Taken completely by surprise, the Apaches obeyed.

Without lowering his weapons, Chester called to Jean:

"Open the door!"

Jean sprang to obey, and as he did so the Apaches, realizing that they were trapped, sprang toward the two lads with cries of rage. Right in the face of the muzzles of the four automatics they came on.

"Halt, or we fire!" cried Chester.

Jean was struggling nervously with the door.

The Apaches paid no heed to the lad's cry.

"Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!"

The automatics of both lads spoke four times in rapid succession, and as many men fell to the floor. For a moment the Apaches fell back. In this moment Jean swung wide the door, and, picking up his revolver, rushed to the side of the two lads, while through the door streamed, one after another, the squad of French cavalrymen.

Some of the Apaches now produced revolvers and fired wildly at the approaching soldiers, and these, leveling their rifles, returned the fire.

Immediately the den became a scene of tumult. Wounded men screamed and others gave vent to their rage with fierce cries. Revolvers and rifles flashed on all sides.

Hal and Chester, immediately the firing had begun, had dropped to their knees, and so, as they still poured lead into the Apaches, the bullets of the latter went over their heads. Jean, however, was not so fortunate.

Realizing that there must have been treachery some place, Georges had naturally come to the conclusion that Jean was responsible for it, and had singled the little man out as his own particular mark. Paying no heed to the fighting that raged about him, he took careful aim and fired.

Jean gave a single cry, threw up his hands and fell squarely between Hal and Chester.

But the fight could have but one outcome. Outnumbered two to one, the Apaches were fighting a losing struggle. Half of their number lay dead on the floor, and many others were nursing serious wounds. As suddenly as it had begun, the fighting ceased, and the Apaches still on their feet raised their hands in the air.

Immediately the soldiers advanced on them and made them prisoners. Each was bound securely and hustled out of the door.

Chester and Hal were not wounded. The former now bent over the body of Jean, in whom he saw there was still a spark of life. He lifted the little man's head gently, and, as he did so, Jean looked at him and spoke:

"Well, they got me," he said quietly. "I thought they would."

"You will be all right in a day or two, Jean," said Chester.

"You can't fool me," was the reply. "I know when I am done for. But I am glad that, before my time came, you were able to put me on the right path. It is better to die thus."

Chester did not reply. There was nothing he could say.

Jean looked at him and smiled, then reached out his hand and clasped Chester's.

"It's all right," he said, pressing the lad's hand; "but let me give you a word of warning. Do not let any of these Apaches know your real identity. Their arm is long and they never forgive. Good-by."

He pressed the lad's hand, gave a single shudder and his grasp relaxed. Chester rose to his feet and turned to Hal.

"He is dead," he said quietly.

Leaving the body of Jean to be disposed of with the others, the lads made their way outside, to where General Gallieni stood. The latter greeted them with a smile.

"Well, we have finished it up," he said cheerfully, "and thanks to you two lads. I can see now why General Joffre has such confidence in you."

The lads flushed with pleasure at this compliment, but neither replied. They merely bowed.

"Now," said General Gallieni, "you shall come with me."

"Where to, sir?" asked Chester.

"Never mind," was the laughing rejoinder. "Mount two of those horses and follow me."

Without further questions the lads obeyed, and, after half an hour's ride, found themselves before the Palace where so recently the attempt on the life of the President of France had been foiled.

General Gallieni dismounted and motioned the lads to follow him, which they did, going up the steps and entering the Palace itself. Here General Gallieni gave his name to an attendant. The latter disappeared, but returned a few moments later and bowed.

General Gallieni, closely followed by Hal and Chester, passed within the next room. There a man in civilian attire, bearded and with flashing eye, advanced to meet them.

"Allow me to present to you, sir," said General Gallieni, with a flourish, "Lieutenants Paine and Crawford, sir."

Both lads bowed low, for the man who advanced toward them with outstretched hand was Raymond Poincare, President of France.

"I am greatly indebted to you boys," said the President, "for the aid you have rendered me; but I am still more indebted for the service you have rendered France."

He spoke at length to the two lads, and finally informed them that they might withdraw, as he had matters of importance to discuss with General Gallieni.

"Well," said Hal to Chester, when they were again on the outside, "what shall we do now?"

"I guess we might as well hunt up our mothers," was Chester's reply.

Accordingly they turned and hurried in the direction of the hotel where, the evening before, they had outwitted Uncle John.

Uncle John was standing just inside the entrance of the hotel. He glanced at the lads as they entered, but, as they were still in their Apache togs, and were ragged and dirty, he did not recognize them. Chester approached him, and in a wheedling voice said:

"Will you give a poor orphan lad a small piece of money, sir?"

The hand of Uncle John, ever generous, immediately went into his pocket, and he placed a franc in the boy's hand.

At that moment one of the hotel officials, perceiving the two dirty lads, and mistaking them for street urchins, approached.

"Were these little beggars annoying you, sir?" he said to Uncle John. "I'll have them kicked into the street."

"Oh, let them alone," said Uncle John, but the official, mumbling that it was against the rules of the hotel, summoned a porter and ordered him to throw the lads out.

"Are you going to let them kick us out, Uncle John?" asked Chester, in English.

Uncle John turned quickly, and walked straight up to him. Stooping he gazed searchingly into his face and then turned to Hal. With an exclamation he waved aside the porter and grasped each lad by the arm.

"You young rascals!" he said. "Don't you know you have worried your mothers nearly to death. You'll come with me now."

He led them to the elevator, and soon the two lads were once more in their mothers' arms.

"Well," said Uncle John, when the greetings were over, "I don't think you will get away from us again. We'll sail for America at once."

"I am afraid," said Chester slowly, "that we cannot go."

"Cannot go? And why not, sir?"

"Because," replied Chester, "I believe that Hal and I shall return immediately to the front, and rejoin General French and his heroic British troops."

Both Mrs. Paine and Mrs. Crawford cried out in alarm, and Uncle John looked at the two lads with disappointment when Hal said:

"Chester is right."

But Uncle John was nothing if not a diplomat.

"We won't discuss it now," he said, with a wave of his hand. "To-morrow we will talk the matter over."

This suited all concerned.

"And that decision having been reached," continued Uncle John, "let's all go down to dinner!"

THE END.