But the man addressed thus abruptly was not looking at August. Instead, he gazed beyond, into the depths of the night outside, the door standing open.
There was the sound of a step outside.
Bordine turned quickly.
A stalwart form was framed in the narrow door—the form of Perry Jounce, the tramp!
There was the gleam of a devil in the man's eye, and in his right hand he clinched the haft of a huge knife.
Instantly the young engineer realized that murder was intended.
Self defense is the first law of nature, and Bordine acted upon it with the quickness of lightning. His right hand shot forward, a bright flash followed, and the next instant the burly form of Perry Jounce disappeared from the doorway.
He had fallen, bleeding, to the ground, from the bullet August Bordine sent hurtling into his face.
Before the young engineer could turn, a pair of strong arms encircled his waist, and he was crushed to the floor under the weight of the man calling himself Henry Jones.
Our young engineer had not yet regained his full strength since his hurt in the runaway accident, and taken at a disadvantage, he labored in vain to throw off his antagonist.