He released Jac to turn and fight. A fist cracked home against his face, and he swung furiously. They grappled, and Craig felt as if he were fighting a steel automaton. The muscles his hands fell upon were rigid. The fist on his head and ribs beat a tattoo. Dave Carey had found Jac.
“Thank God!” he cried. “I thought you were lost. Trust to me. I’ll see you through!”
Like Craig, he picked her up.
“I’ll take you home if you’ll go with me.”
“Anywhere out of this crowd!”
“Jac!”
“Here!”
A hand caught Carey by the shoulder and jerked him around. In the dim light he saw the convulsed face of Carrigan and dropped Jac to strike out with all his might. His blow landed on thin air and a hard fist smashed against his ribs. He went to the floor with a crash. But though his breath was half gone, he clung to his foe and struggled like a wildcat. Wild tales were told of Dave Carey in a fight. He lived up to all those stories now. But finally a clubbed fist drove against the point of his chin. He relaxed.
The burly shoulders of Maurie Gordon loomed through the semi-dark above Jac.
“Jacqueline!”