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.