"They're thieves!" he cried. "Help! Help!"
There was no answer save the echo of his own voice, broken by the panting breaths of the three men, who seemed to want to do their work in silence.
By a powerful right-hand swing Paul sent his man to the ground with a thud that knocked the breath from his body, and the fellow did not get up again immediately.
"Let go of me!" yelled Innis. "Keep your hands out of my pockets!"
He tore himself loose from the man's grip, and shoved the fellow aside, so that he fell on top of the one Paul had knocked down.
"Help! Help!" yelled Innis. "Thieves! Grit! Grit!"
"Grit isn't here!" panted Dick, wishing with all his heart that his pet had not been left in the garage to keep watch and ward over the auto. Our hero was struggling fiercely with his man.
By this time the one Paul had knocked down was getting up, being assisted by the fellow Innis had pushed from him. Dick managed to get one arm free and he dashed his clenched fist full into the face of his attacker.
He could feel the force of the blow, and he knew he must have caused the footpad considerable pain, for there was a grunt of protest.