But Fits wheeled, a weapon now in his own hand.
Three jets of fire leaped swiftly from the muzzle of the pistol.

Three sharp explosions followed, and bullets whistled back over the snow.
[Illustration: "Halt, there!"] Constable Dock halted, dropping to one knee, for one of the leaden pellets had gone close to his left ear.

One of the bullets hit a tree just behind Prescott with a spiteful chug.

Dick felt queer, but he was too much in motion to stop himself just then.
"Stop or I'll bring you down!" bellowed Constable Dock, taking careful aim.

An instant later the officer fired, but at that very instant Mr.
Fits skimmed off at a sharp angle with his late course, and so he escaped uninjured.
A derisive shout came back from the fugitive.