“I told you I had no money to spare. Now let me pass,” and Gilbert tried to break away and pass down the side street, for he saw that several other Russians were approaching.
The breaking out of the war, and the battle in the harbor, had made the Russian stevedores reckless, and they thought they saw a chance to get some money without working for it. At a sign from their leader they set upon Gilbert and tripped him up, so that he fell flat upon his back.
“Here, stop that!” he cried. “Stop it, I say!” And when they did not stop, but instead made movements as if to get at his watch and purse, he began to struggle violently.
As my old readers will remember, Gilbert was healthy and muscular, and it did not take him long to struggle to his feet, and send one of his assailants sprawling. Then he struck out once more, hitting a second Russian on the nose.
“Knock him down!” spluttered that individual, staggering back “Knock him down! Hit him with a club.”
By this time two others of the stevedore gang were at hand. One had a club and he made a wicked pass for the young American’s head. Fortunately Gilbert saw the move, and dodged just in time, so that the end of the stick merely grazed his shoulder.
The fight was now growing hot, and Gilbert backed up against a wall, hoping by this means to keep his assailants in front of him. But now all five of the Russians came at him, and he felt that sooner or later he must become then victim.
“Help! help!” he cried. “Thieves! help!”
“Be quiet!” growled one of the Russians. “Be quiet!”
“Hit him, Michael! Hit him, before he alarms the whole neighborhood!” put in another.