"All right, snoopy," Sharp snarled. "This is what I found in it."
"All right, snoopie, here it is." Sharp lifted a strange implement from his bag and pointed it. "Duck," Penny shouted, "That's it!"
He jerked his bag open. His hand dived into it. It came out of the bag with the strangest looking instrument Rocks had ever seen. Constructed of pale silvery metal, fitted with a series of faceted lenses, it glinted evilly under the lights.
Because of the very nature of the instrument, Sharp handled it clumsily. But there was no mistaking its purpose. He brought it up. Penny screamed.
Rocks stepped forward. His left hand flicked out. All the weight of his body was behind that blow. He drove it straight at Sharp's chin. It would have made Joe Louis bat his expressionless eyes. It would have knocked Sharp's head almost off his shoulders—if it had landed.
That was the trouble. It didn't land. Sharp saw it coming. He ducked down and to one side, fumbling with the instrument he had taken from his bag. The fist skidded across the top of his head. It sent him staggering backward.
"The next time," Rocks gritted. "I won't miss. I'll knock your damned head off, you dirty murderer." He charged.