The fellow called Michael advanced to do as bidden. Gilbert warded off the blow once more, and then sought to wrench the stick from the stevedore’s grasp. In another instant the other Russians leaped in, and down went the young American once more, with all his enemies on top of him.
CHAPTER VII
AMONG JAPANESE FRIENDS
For the moment it looked as if Gilbert would receive the worst of the struggle. It was true that the Russian stevedores were more than half intoxicated, but they were five to one, and now they had Gilbert flat on his back, and were both kicking and cuffing him as hard as they could.
But at this critical moment an interruption came which was as welcome to the young American as it was unexpected. From a cellar door a short distance away there issued half a dozen Japanese and two Chinese, all armed with stout sticks. Looking up and down the street, to make certain that the coast was otherwise clear, they advanced noiselessly and attacked the Russians from the rear.
A howl of pain went up as one of the Russians received a blow on the head that staggered him. Then a second was hit on the ear, a third nearly had his shoulder dislocated, and the others fared almost as badly.
“The Japanese!” shrieked one of the stevedores. “The Japanese!”
“Stop, do not kill us!” moaned a second.
Gilbert listened to the words in amazement. Then he looked up, to behold Jiru Siko standing there, stick in hand.
“Siko!” he cried. “This is fortunate!”
“Come, Master Pennington,” was the low answer. “Make quick walk, no make quick walk more Russians come—make much hurry!” And he bent down and caught Gilbert by the arm.