The bottle crashed down on his right shoulder, making him stagger. Fragments of glass and whisky exploded over him.
Cursing, his arm momentarily numbed, Tux spun around.
More frightened that he had ever been before, Ken swung a wild, hard punch at Tux’s head, but Tux slipped the punch and caught Ken under the heart with a jarring left jab that staggered him.
Johnny made a rush for the door, but Tux kicked out, catching Johnny above the knee, bringing him down.
Before Tux could get his eyes back on Ken, Ken had jumped in close and grabbed his arms. It was like catching hold of a gorilla. Tux threw him off with a heave of his massive shoulders. He jumped away and set his back against the cabin wall.
Johnny scrambled up and backed away while Ken stood by the door, staring at Tux.
“So you’ve found a pal,” Tux said, his small eyes gleaming viciously. “Well, okay, the barrel’s big enough to take you both.” His hand whipped behind him and reappeared holding a short stabbing knife. “Who’s first?”
Both Ken and Johnny recoiled at the sight of the knife and Tux grinned. He began to edge forward.
Ken snatched up the chair and thrust it at Tux. One of the legs narrowly missed Tux’s face as he ducked under it, and he cursed; catching hold of the chair leg with his left hand, he tried to pull Ken on to the knife blade.
He was too strong for Ken, and to prevent himself being pulled forward, Ken had to let go of the chair.