ting body that plunged through the
air above him. Lefty Joe dug his left elbow into the floor of the car
and whirled back upon his shoulders, bunching his knees high over his
stomach. Nine chances out of ten, if Donnegan had fallen flatwise upon
this alert enemy, he would have received those knees in the pit of his
own stomach and instantly been paralyzed. But in the jumping, rattling
car even Donnegan was capable of making mistakes. His mistake in this
instance saved his life, for springing too far, he came down not in
reaching distance of Lefty's throat, but with his chest on the knees of
the older tramp.

As a result, Donnegan was promptly kicked head over heels and tumbled
the length of the car. Lefty was on his feet and plunging after the
tumbling form in the twinkling of an eye, literally speaking, and he was
only kept from burying his knife in the flesh of his foe by a sway of
the car that staggered him in the act of striking. Donnegan, the next
instant, was beyond reach. He had struck the end of the car and
rebounded like a ball of rubber at a tangent. He slid into the shadows,
and Lefty, putting his own shoulders to the wall, felt for his revolver
and knew that he was lost. He had failed in his first surprise attack,
and without surprise to help him now he was gone. He weighed his
revolver, decided that it would be madness to use it, for if he missed,
Donnegan would instantly be guided by the flash to shoot him full of
holes.

Something slipped by the open door--something that glimmered faintly;
and Lefty Joe knew that it was the red head of Donnegan. Donnegan,
soft-footed as a shadow among shadows. Donnegan on a blood trail. It
lowered the heartbeat of Lefty Joe to a tremendous, slow pulse. In that
moment he gave up hope and, resigning himself to die, determined to
fight to the last gasp, as became one of his reputation and national
celebrity on "the road."

Yet Lefty Joe was no common man and no common fighter. No, let the shade
of Rusty Dick, whom Lefty met and beat in his glorious prime--let this
shade arise and speak for the prowess of Lefty Joe. In fact it was
because he was such a good fighter himself that he recognized his
helplessness in the hands of Donnegan.

The faint glimmer of color had passed the door. It was dissolved in
deeper shadows at once, and soundlessly; Lefty knew that Donnegan was
closer and closer.

Of one thing he felt more and more confident, that Donnegan did not have
his rev