As he uttered that "thank you," Sergeant Overton suddenly summoned all the muscles in his body to obey him in one frantic effort for safety and freedom.
Like a flash he rolled, both of his bound feet kicking Vicente Tomba and bowling over that astounded little brown man.
Like lightning the Army boy reached for the creese, and the finish of that general movement found Sergeant Hal Overton sitting up and aiming a desperate slash at the cord about his ankles.
It needed a second slash, and in that fleeting interval Vicente Tomba, uttering a wild cry of rage, hurled himself upon the Army boy.
Hal Overton had now, however, entire control of his body. He engaged with the little brown man in a desperate struggle. Over and over they rolled, the Army boy controlling the battle and carrying them both further from the creese that he had dropped on the ground.
Then, all in an instant, Hal freed his right hand, clenched his fist and struck Tomba a staggering blow between the eyes.
When Tomba came to himself again, after a few moments, he found the youth in Uncle Sam's Army uniform leaning over him.
"I have the creese, Tomba," warned Overton. "You can guess what a sound or a move that is not permitted will mean to you!"
To do his courage full justice, Tomba showed himself no coward.
"You have the upper hand, Señor Sergente. But it will do you no good."