Segunder received a blow in the side that caused him to writhe with pain. He whirled on his assailant with surprising quickness considering the Icelander's bulk. His ponderous fist smote the other man between the eyes, sending the fellow hurtling clear across the room.
Attracted by the uproar, Bob Jarvis, who had come in search of Olsen, had run up the stairs. His eyes quickly took in the situation. Bob could scarce restrain himself from rushing into the fray. But as yet there appeared no need for him to do so. Segunder was holding his own; in fact, thus far he had the better of the argument.
The enemy backed away and consulted for a few brief seconds, then with one movement they charged the big man. Men went down like nine-pins. The long arms of the Icelander swung wildly but with telling effect. The sound of the blows was heard out in the street. It seldom required more than one blow from those ponderous fists to unfit the man on whom they had landed for further participation in the fight.
"Get into him! Use a club or a knife!" howled a man.
At this juncture Cavard, who had been watching the progress of the fight with pale face and blazing eyes, leaped from the platform and began forcing his way through the crowd.
Cavard was a big and powerful man. He could hit hard and sure, as some of the men there were well aware from personal experience. Segunder saw him coming, and a gleam of savage joy lighted up the eyes of the Icelander.
The Russian walked more slowly as he neared his adversary. The two men eyed each other steadily. All at once the labor leader's right fist shot out with lightning-like speed. It caught Segunder on the side of the head, spinning him about. Before he could catch his balance Cavard was upon him.
Instantly the two men became a whirling, tumbling tangle, arms striking, feet kicking, breath coming in quick, short gasps. First Olsen would be under; then it would be Cavard's turn.
The others in the room had instinctively drawn back when the battle between the two giants commenced.
Cavard loosed his grip on Olsen, endeavoring to get in a telling blow, with which he hoped to put his adversary out. But before he could strike, Segunder's fist was jammed into his face with awful force. The labor leader staggered back with the blood flowing freely.