A scream burst from the woman's lips, as her brutal annoyer came toward her, his upper lip curled in a snarl.
But he had not advanced more than a couple of paces before an unexpected interruption occurred. A third voice struck into the scene.
"Stop right where you are, Bill Kennell, or there'll be trouble."
Kennell, for it was the disgraced and desperate bully formerly of the Manhattan, whipped round in a flash. His recognition of the Dreadnought Boys, who stood in the opened kitchen door, was swift as theirs had been of him.
"Ned Strong!" he exclaimed in a husky voice.
"Not forgetting Herc Taylor, Bill," grinned the freckle-faced youth. "You don't seem exactly glad to see us."
"Oh, whoever you are, thank heaven you have come!" cried the woman. She reeled backward, overcome by the reaction of her feelings, and would have fallen if Herc had not jumped forward and seized her in his arms.
At the same instant, Kennell, who had lost none of his former agility, crouched and sprung like a wildcat at Ned. But if he had thought to catch the Dreadnought Boy off his guard, he was dreadfully mistaken. Ned jumped nimbly to one side, as Kennell rushed at him, and the bully carried by the impetus of his onrush, crashed against the wall. He recovered himself in an instant and came back at Ned with formidable force. But once more Ned was ready for him. The Dreadnought Boy dived suddenly, as Kennell raised his knotted club, and, coming up under the man's arm, caught him a blow on the chin that caused the former bully of the Manhattan to reel and stagger.
But, as if he had been prepared for some such result of his onslaught, Kennell, without an instant's loss of time, produced a pistol from somewhere amid his tattered garments.