at the gun in its holster slung
under his coat close to his armpit.

Lund's arms swung like clubs, his great hands plucked at their holds,
while he roared volleys of deep-sea, defiant oaths, shaking or striking
off a man now and then, who charged back snarlingly to the attack.

Brief though the fight had been when Rainey arrived, there was ample
evidence of it. Clothes were torn and faces bloody, and already the men
were panting as Lund dragged them here and there, flailing, striking,
half-smothered, but always coming up from under, like a rock that
emerges from the bursting of a heavy wave.

And the voice of the combat, grunts and snarls, gasping shouts and
broken curses, was the sound of ravening beasts. So far as Rainey could
vision in one swift moment before he ran forward, no knives were being
used.

A hunter lunged out heavily and confidently to meet him as the others
got Lund to his knees for a fateful moment, piling on top of him,
bludgeoning blows with guttural cries of fancied victory.

Rainey's man struck, and the strength of his arm, backed by his hurling
weight, broke down Rainey's guard and left the arm numb. The next
instant they were at close quarters, swinging madly, rife with the one
desire to down the other, to maim, to kill. A blow crashed home on
Rainey's cheek, sending him back dazed, striking madly, clinching to
stop the piston-like smashes of the hunter clutching him, trying to
trip him, hammering at the fierce face above him as they both went down
and rolled into the scuppers, tearing at each other.

He felt the man's hands at his throat, gradually squeezing out sense and
breath and strength, and threw up his knee with all his force. It struck
the hunter fairly in the groin, and he heard the man groan with the
sudden agony. But he himself was nearly out. The man seemed to fade away
for the second, the choking fingers relaxed, and Rainey gulped for air.
His eyes seemed strained from bulging from their sockets in that fierce
grip, and there was a fog before them through which he could hear the
roar of Lund, sounding like a siren blast that told he was still
fighting, still confident.

Then he saw the hunter's face close to his again, felt the whole weight
of the man crushing him, felt the bite of teeth through cloth and flesh,
nipping down on his shoulder as the man lay on him, striving to hold him
down until he regained the strength that the blow in the groin had
temporarily broken down.