therefore, silently and recklessly he
fought his way into the mob. He had no thought of defence--merely
slugged, trusting to the surprise and speed of his attack to protect
him.

Five convulsed faces had fallen before the fury of Torrance's assault
before there was resistance. The first threatening arm he seized in
relentless clutch, flinging back over his head the knife it held. Then
a Hungarian, saved from a swinging club by Torrance's quick blow,
recognised only another foe and lunged with a knife. The contractor
kicked him out of the fray and went on.

In the meantime Conrad was realising his mistake in dividing forces.
The mob was quieting a little, it was true, but it was the comparative
calm only of discovering new foes. Torrance, ten yards away, was
battling like a madman, but now advance was hopelessly blocked by
weight of numbers and concentrated resistance. Two dozen bohunks, lost
now to any ordinary sense of peril, were bent on paying off old scores.
Conrad began seriously to fight his way over to Torrance.

Across the crowd he could see Koppy making headway at last, and he
vaguely wondered why. A face loomed before him, and he struck into it
viciously. It dropped away, but a shooting pain across his scalp
warned him that he was cut; a moving spot of warm moisture on the back
of his neck located a small stream of blood.

The maddest fury of the fight seemed to have waned, yet Conrad knew
that the danger to him and Torrance had increased. Italian and
Hungarian, Pole and Swede, had forgotten their race feud in the greater
hatred of their bosses. The noise, so hideous and snarling when they
arrived, was stilled in unity of purpose.

Many had retired, some to nurse their wounds, others not yet blind
enough to custom to ignore authority. Those who remained knew what
they were doing. Murder was in their eyes.

Through a temporary opening in his own group Conrad caught Torrance's
eye, anxious and a little uncertain. The foreman made a peremptory
movement of his head urging retreat--for Torrance. If one of them
could get away for a rifle! At that instant he ducked to avoid a side
attack, and Torrance saw the blood on his neck. With a bellow the
contractor charged through.

"Back to back!" he shouted, and lashed out sideways with one foot at a
fresh onset against the tiring foreman. Conrad smiled. He was feeling
the strain--had been for minutes--but Torrance's arrival lent him fresh
streng