along, he held his bludgeon in readiness while his keen eyes
searched--and presently he made out the cronching figures.

"The naygur first--to hold me, whilst the Greeks slip a dirk in me,"
he decided shrewdly.

He heard the scuttering rush start, and, with the shock of combat, his
carefully prearranged plan of battle quite fled his mercurial mind. He
met the charge with a joyous screech, forgot that he had a club, and
kicked viciously out with his right foot. His heavy logger's boots
connected with something soft and yielding, which instinct told Mr.
O'Leary was an abdomen; instinct, coupled with experience, informed
him further that no man could assimilate that mighty kick in the
abdomen and yet remain perpendicular, whereupon. Dirty Dan leaped high
in the air and came down with both terrible calked boots on something
which gave slightly under him and moaned. On the instant, he received
a light blow in the breast and knew he had been stabbed.

He remembered his club now; as he backed away swiftly, he swung it,
and, from the impact, concluded he had struck a neck or shoulder. That
was the luck of night-fighting; so, with a bitter curse, Dirty Dan
swung again, in the pious hope of connecting with a skull; he scored a
clean miss and was, by the tremendous force of his swing, turned
completely round. Before he could recover his balance, a hand grasped
his ankle and he came down heavily on his face; instantly, his
assailant's knees were pressed into his back. With a mighty heave he
sought to free himself, at the same time flinging both long legs
upward, after the fashion of one who strives to kick himself in the
small of the back; whereupon a knife drove deep into his instep, and
he realized he had not acted a split second too soon to save himself
from a murderous thrust in the kidneys--a Greek's favorite blow.

In battle, Dirty Dan's advantage lay always in his amazing speed and
the terrible fury of his attack during the first five minutes. Even as
he threw up his feet, he drew back, an elbow and crashed it into his
enemy's ribs; like a flash, his arm straightened, and his sinewy hand
closed over the wrist of an arm that struggled in vain to strike
downward. Holding that wrist securely, Dirty Dan heaved upward, got
his left elbow under his body, and rested a few moments; another
mighty heave, and he tossed off the Greek, and, whirling with the
speed of a pin-wheel, was on top of his man. He had momentarily
released h