My next moment of consciousness consisted of a sensation of helplessness. I was awake; I heard sounds vaguely; but I could not see, nor could I move.
“There.” A voice seemed to speak from a far-away darkness. “He’s coming to; you didn’t kill him after all, cap.”
I felt something strike me heavily in the side.
“Yes. He’s coming to. Prod him again. —— him! He delayed us, and every minute counts.”
Once more the heavy blow fell on my side. I opened my eyes wearily. Painfully turning my head I looked toward my side and made out a heavy boot. Some one had been kicking me. My eyes moved up the boot; Garvin was its owner. The sight of his gross face brought back memory and consciousness. There was blood on his mouth; in the lower lip was a long cut, and I was glad.
Garvin was staring at me with a mingling of curiosity and respect in his expression.
“Where the —— did you learn that punch in the Adam’s apple?” he said. “That’s a new one to me. And, say, you’re quick; quickest man I ever see; and you’re all there for a middle-weight, bo.”
“Who hit me in the back of the head?” I demanded weakly. “That was a cowardly blow.”
I heard a growl somewhere which I recognized as Brack’s.
“We were in a hurry,” he said, “and you would not give us a chance to handle you gently. You delayed us. That may be serious.”