"I 've got a quarter of a million in this myself!" They went on, fifty yards, a hundred.

Creeping now, they already were within the zone of light, but before them the two men, double-jacking at a "swimmer", had their backs turned.

Onward--until Harry and Fairchild were within ten feet of the "high-jackers", while Anita waited, stone in hand, in the background.

Came a yell, high-pitched, fiendish, racking, as Harry leaped forward.

And before the two "high-jackers" could concentrate enough to use their sledge and drill as weapons, they were whirled about, battered against the hanging wall, and swirling in a daze of blows which seemed to come from everywhere at once.