“You will, will you?” he heard the unmistakable voice of the big Westerner.
With a bound Donald was at the door. He found the Westerner badly battered, but holding three men at bay. The fourth lay in a crumpled heap in the corner.
Only one of the men noticed Donald’s entrance. He was a big, burly brute, with the swarthy features of the Southern European, and he came straight for the intruder, crouching low. Donald’s left hand caught him on the eye, and as his head flew back Donald crossed viciously with his right. The blow landed with an impact that sounded like a cleaver sinking into a meat block, and the man dropped as though shot.
A rat-faced man, standing near a side door with a bottle in his hand, shouted a warning as Donald sprang to the Westerner’s assistance. Both men turned their heads. The ham-like fist of the big blond giant struck the larger of the two men such a terrific blow on the side of the head that the recipient whirled completely around and sank dazedly to the floor.
“Duck!” yelled Donald, as he saw the little man’s arm go back. The Westerner dropped, and not a second too soon. The bottle whizzed over his head, bringing a shower of plaster from the wall where it struck. With a curse the big man turned, but the bottle-thrower had disappeared through the side door. The remaining thug, a tall, cadaverous looking youth, took one wild look around, then bolted through the front door.
The Westerner, gasping and rather pale, seized Donald’s hand in his huge paw. “Pardner, you saved me from a hell of a lickin’! ’Bout two minutes more and. . . .”
“Grab your coat and hat and we’ll get out of here before the police come,” interrupted Donald.
They went through the alley to Hammond Street, then down Exchange Street.
“Better come up to my room and have those cuts attended to,” suggested Donald.
The Westerner touched gingerly the rapidly swelling lump over his ear. “You know,” he observed, “those fellers never intended to start a rough-house. The little dip was pretty slick, but I caught him with his hand in my pocket, and when they saw that they had a fight on their hands, they tried to lay me out with a billy. Should have seen the funny look on that little rat’s face when he lammed me with that loaded stick and I didn’t go down. Guess this old bean of mine must run pretty heavy to bone,” he finished with a chuckle. He looked at Donald curiously. “You sure handed it to that big dago quick. How did you horn in on the row anyway?”