“We are in for it now, old man.  We’ll have to make a break for it.”

“All right,” said Chester grimly.  “Lead the way.”

Once more the Italian officer stretched forth a detaining hand, but this time Hal wasted no time in explanation.  He struck out straight from the shoulder, and the officer toppled to the ground.

“Second fall for him to-day,” muttered Hal between his teeth.

He felt Chester’s arm press his elbow.

“Come on,” he said.

Side by side the lads stepped forward in the very faces of the mob that barred their path, and for a moment the crowd gave back.  Then one man, bolder than the rest, sprang forward and sought to clutch Chester’s arm.  The lad’s fist met him half way and he dropped silently to the ground.

An angry roar went up from the crowd.

Chester’s hand dropped to his pocket.  Hal perceived the motion and cried out: 

“No guns, Chester!”

Chester realized the soundness of the warning and his revolver remained where it was.

Two of the crowd sprang forward together, but Hal and Chester, with their greater strength and reach, disposed of them easily.  A blow from behind landed on Chester’s neck and he staggered forward.  He recovered himself in a moment, however, and shouted.

“Rush ’em, Hal!”

The latter also realized that to stand still and fight gave the crowd behind too great an opening and he obeyed Chester’s injunction.  At the same moment both sprang forward, and the crowd opened before them.

Straight ahead they went, striking out right and left, but rushing forward as fast as possible all the time.  Men fell on both sides of them beneath their heavy blows, and so far neither lad had received a severe jolt.

At that moment, however, Hal felt a keen pain in his left arm.  He glanced down curiously and saw a tiny stream of red spout forth.  His lips set in a thin line.

“Guns, Chester,” he said quietly, halting in his tracks.  “They are using knives.”

“Good,” said Chester, also halting.  “Back to back.”

The lads whipped out their automatics simultaneously, and, back to back, confronted the crowd.  Hal spoke.

“We are not spies,” he shouted, “but we are not going to be killed without a fight.  We are British army officers.  Stand back!”

Before the threatening muzzles of the two automatics the crowd hesitated.  Then, from directly ahead of Chester, a shot rang out.  The lad heard something whiz past his head, and from beyond came a cry of pain.

“Shot one of his own number,” muttered the lad.

His finger tightened on the trigger as he saw a man about to leap forward regardless of the automatic.

“I’m going to shoot, Hal,” he called.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” replied the lad quietly.  “When I give the word turn loose on ’em, and then we’ll make another break.”