knowing who was on top, spinning around in a
struggle where neither boots nor knees were barred.

"He sneaked out of the bungalow just now," Capehart snorted. "We'd
searched the place. Didn't think there was room for a louse to be hid in
it. Got by the boys. I stopped him at the hedge and drove him into the
open. Now Worth's got him. That is Worth, ain't it? Fights like him."

"Yes," I said, "It's Worth." But in my own mind I wasn't sure whether
Worth had the fugitive, or the fugitive had Worth. And Jim Edwards
muttered anxiously, as we skipped and side-stepped along with the fight,

"That fellow may have a knife or a gun."

"Not where he can draw," I said, "or he'd have used it before now." And
Capehart sung out,

"Sure. Leave 'em go. Worth'll fix him."

Edging in too close, I got a kick on the shin from a flying heel, and
was dancing around on one foot nursing the other when I heard sounds of
distress issue from the tangle in the road; somebody was getting breath
in long, gaspy sighs that broke off in grunts when the thud of blows
fell, and merged in the harsh nasal of blood violently dislodged from
nose and throat. For a while they had been up, and swapping punches
face to face, lightning swift. Sounds like boxing, perhaps, but there
wasn't any science about it. Feint? Parry? Footwork? Not on your life!
Each of these two was trying to slug the other into insensibility,
working for any old kind of a knock-out.

I began to be a little nervous for fear the boy I was bringing home from
jail as a peace offering to Barbara might arrive so defaced that she
wouldn't recognize him, when I saw one dark form pull away, leap back,
an arm shoot out like a piston-rod, and with a jar that set my own teeth
on edge, connect with the other man's chin. He went down clawing the
air, crumpled into a bunch of clothes at the side of the road.

"You wanted the Chink, didn't you, Bill?" This was Worth, facing Jim
Edwards's torch, fumbling for his handkerchief. "I heard you, and I
thought you wanted him."

"It's Fong Ling!" bawled Capehart. "Sure we wanted him--and whatever
that was he was carrying. Where is it? Did he drop it?"

"Sort of think he did," Worth was dabbing off his own face with a
gingerly, respectful touch. "I know he dropped some teeth back there in
the road. Saw him spit 'em out. Maybe he left it with them. You might go
and look."

The four of us drifted along the field of battle, Capehart's assistant
having tak