"Say, you don't want to croak yet. I got to tell you: the Weasel
said to tell you that he had bit. Understand? He has bit.
See?" Hen paused with a look of satisfaction.

The Wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes.

"That ends him," said Hen solemnly. "Gosh!"

A detective felt the heart of the wounded man.

"He's alive," he said. "Send an ambulance call, somebody."

Another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained
commenced to search the room for hiding places.

"I know where he's got some stuff hidden," Asa said thickly.
"Take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "Get
that iron thing on the table," Asa continued, "and get the heel
off."

The Chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper
fluttered to the floor. The Chief picked them carefully up, and
put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below
announced the coming of the ambulance. A couple of doctors came
up, three steps at a time, and examined the Wolf. A bandage soon
stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried
down the stairs. A detective picked Asa up and prepared to
follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy
sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. As he came to
his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. But