with his low, fiendish laugh--it was all like a frightful
electric shock to Porky, and in that horrible instant he came
into his manhood. Behind him, at his shoulder, his twin brother
went through the same agony of soul and he, too, felt a strange
new thrill, an addition of courage and strength.

"Hands up!" said Porky again.

For a moment the sly eyes of the Wolf swept the room, then his
hands were raised. He backed toward the table but a curt order
from Hen, and he stood still.

"There's rope on that table," said Hen. "Get it and bind him."

Beany grabbed the rope, and bent to tie the ankles of the Wolf.
Like a flash his hands came down, he seized the boy and clutching
him in a vise-like grip, held him before him as a shield.

"Shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the
door. Hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but
Beany's body covered the Wolf who, with the strength of ten, held
Beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape,
and safety. He had almost reached it when a deafening noise
sounded from below. There was the sound of a door being battered
in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. For a second the Wolf
faltered. For a second he was off his guard. In that second,
Beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and
out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over
his head, dropping to the floor behind him. It was so quick, so
unexpected, that the Wolf could not keep his hold, and Beany