"Call your hound dogs off," he roared at her. "I'm going through."

Zoraida clapped her hands.

"_Muchachos_," she commanded them, "tame me this wild man! But no
pistols or knives, mind you!"

She drew up close to one wall and watched; she might have been an
excited child at a three-ring circus. Kendric found time to marvel at
her even as he shot by her, hurling the whole of his compact weight
into the mass of bodies defying him passageway. And as flesh struck
flesh, Zoraida clapped her hands again and watched eagerly.

"One against six--seven," she whispered. "One against nine!" she
added, for already the two men who had sought to hold Kendric back from
the hallway were up and after him. "He is a mad fool--and yet, by the
breath of God, he is a man!"

And a man's fight did he treat her to, carried out of himself, gone for
the moment the madman she had named him. It was Jim Kendric's way to
fight in silence, but now he shouted as he struck, defying them,
cursing them, striking as hard as God had given him strength, recking
not in the least of blows received, heart and mind centered alone on
the pulsing, throbbing prayer to feel a bone crack before him, to see a
head snap back, to feel blood gush forth from a battered face. A man
tripped him cunningly from the side and he all but fell. But he struck
back with his boot and steadied himself by hurling his toppling body
against a resisting body and crashed on. Yes, and through, though they
clutched at him and dragged after him! A man hung to his belt and he
dragged him four or five steps; then he turned and drove his fist into
the man's neck and freed himself and bore on. So he came to the end of
the hall and to a locked door and turned with his back to the wall.
And again Zoraida's hound dogs were in front of him.

He laughed at them and taunted them and reviled them. They were nine
men and upon many of the dark faces were signs of his passing. And as
they came closer there was respect as well as caution in their look.
They meant to beat him down; in their minds was no doubt of the
ultimate outcome, for were they not nine to one? But they had felt his
fists and had no joy in the memory. So they drew on slowly.

Kendric watched them narrowly. In the eyes of the nearest man he saw a
sudden flickering; it flashed over him that the fellow meant trickery
and no fair man-to-man fight. He stood with his back to the door; he
saw the approaching man's eyes