Frank obeyed.

“You too, if you please,” said Davis blandly, flourishing a revolver, while at the same time he returned the other to his pocket.

“Look here, Davis,” said Jack quietly, “this thing has gone far enough.  We have been highly amused with your entertainment, but now it is time to call a halt.”

Davis looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” he queried.

“Just this,” said Jack calmly.  “Unless you drop that revolver this minute, I shall have to take it away from you.”

He gazed at Davis steadily.

The latter’s shifty eyes could not meet the steady gaze of the lad and he looked away, but kept Jack covered with his revolver.

“Oh, I guess not,” he said.

“Oh, yes I shall,” said Jack easily.

“Come,” said Davis, pulling himself together and raising his revolver so it pointed between Jack’s eyes.  “Enough of this.  Get back there now or I shall fire.”

Instead, Jack took a step forward, still looking Davis squarely in the eyes.

“Put down that gun!” he commanded sharply.

His tone startled Davis, and for a brief moment he allowed the weapon to waver; and in that moment Jack leaped upon him.

Taken off his guard, Davis nevertheless still had time to raise the revolver and fire.  Jack staggered back as he felt something like a red-hot iron pierce his right arm; and the member dropped limply to his side.

Again Davis fired, but Jack ducked even as he pulled the trigger and the bullet passed over his head.

There was a cry from behind him and Frank pitched forward to the floor.  The bullet had struck him a glancing blow on the side of the head.

Jack’s heart grew sick as he heard his chum’s cry, for he realized in a flash what had happened; but he did not turn his head to look.  Instead, stooping low, he leaped lightly forward and seized Davis’ pistol arm even as the man fired again.  Jack jerked the arm upward at the moment the weapon went off and the bullet passed him harmlessly.  Then, with a vigorous wrench, the lad twisted the revolver from Davis’ hand and kicked it to one side as it fell to the floor at his feet.  Then he struck Davis sharply across the face with his left hand, and as the man staggered back, thrust his hand into the pocket where so recently Davis had placed his second revolver.

Davis grabbed at it but too late.

Jack stepped back and, walking across the room, picked up the other weapon.  Then, opening the door, he tossed both weapons outside, closed the door and faced Davis.

“I’ve still got a couple of guns in my own pockets,” he said quietly, “but I’m going to thrash you within an inch of your life without use of a weapon—­and with a bad arm besides.  I may shoot you later, I haven’t decided about that yet.  It all depends upon how badly you have hurt my friend here.”

He stepped forward and aimed a hard blow at Davis with his left fist.  Davis stepped aside and the blow missed.  At the same time Davis swung hard with right and left and the second blow caught Jack on the helpless right arm.  Jack winced but said nothing.  He was deadly cool, and he advanced upon Davis smiling.