The skirt was jerking about, and under it bare ankles moved quickly, as if the woman or girl were struggling to get away. The shoulders of one of the men, too, moved as if his hands were gripping an active prisoner. Then the men swung apart an instant, and in the space between them gleamed sunlit red hair.
Douglas bounded forward, his feet making little noise in the soft sand. Before the intent couple heard him he was upon them. Straight between them he plunged, shoving them violently asunder. From the girl broke a cry. She was Marion, and both her wrists were clutched in the heavy fists of Bill.
“Hey! Ya big bum, whatcha doin’?” Bill blared furiously. Ward’s face too was dark with anger over the thump he had received, and one hand hung menacingly at his hip.
“I’ll show you mighty sudden what I’m doing! Let her go!”
Bill released the girl—but not in obedience to the command. He did it because he wanted to use his hands on Douglas more than on her. Ugly-jawed, he stepped forward.
Douglas stepped back, handed his gun to Marion, and fronted Bill with fists poised for the first parry and counter-punch. Marion sprang aside, face ablaze with wrath, gun up. Ward, seeing Douglas give up the weapon to her and stand bare-handed, relaxed from his tense poise and swiftly grew cool.
Bill shot a vicious punch at the blond man’s chin—a straight drive which would have downed his man if it had landed. But Douglas ducked to the left and snapped a retaliating right for the beefy jaw. It halted short—his wrist caught and held by Ward. Now Ward yanked him back.
“Two to one, eh?” raged Douglas. “All right——”
“No!” clipped Ward. Gripping the blond man’s arms, he swung himself between the antagonists. “Let up! Same goes for you, Bill! Cut it!”
With a powerful shove he sent Douglas staggering backward, at the same time releasing his hold.