Tux tossed the chair away and darted forward. Ken hit out blindly, and his fist crashed into Tux’s face as the knife flashed.
Ken had no idea how he avoided the thrust. He felt the blade cut into his coat and he twisted sideways. He fell against Tux, grabbed hold of Tux’s knife wrist with both hands and threw his whole weight on Tux’s arm. “Get him!” he shouted frantically to Johnny, who, instead of going to Ken’s help, tried to reach the door. As he shoved past the struggling men, Tux grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and pinned him against the wall.
It was as much as Ken could do to control Tux’s right arm. He hung on, his Angers squeezing Tux’s fingers against the knife handle, trying to make him drop it.
Tux hooked his leg around Ken’s, heaved and upset Ken, sending him sprawling on the floor. He tried to hang on to Tux’s wrist, but the fall broke his hold.
Tux swung around on Johnny and again the knife flashed, but in falling, Ken had grabbed hold of Tux’s trousers cuff and he jerked with all his strength, bringing Tux over backwards on top of him.
Johnny kicked violently at Tux’s head. The toe of his shoe smashed against Tux’s temple, and for a second or so Tux went limp, the knife falling from his hand.
Ken grabbed the knife and threw it across the room, shoved Tux away from him and scrambled up on hands and knees.
Tux was up at the same time. Blood ran down his face from a cut on the temple where Johnny had kicked him. His face was convulsed with murderous rage.
Before Ken could get out of the way, Tux belted him in the face with a half-arm punch that sent Ken over on his back, but Johnny had snatched up the chair and crashed it down on Tux’s head and shoulders.
Johnny suddenly seemed to have found some courage. His white, thin face was as murderous and as vicious as Tux’s now. He hit Tux again, driving him to his knees as Ken rolled away and staggered to his feet.