the street-side of the walk prevented
careless pedestrians from stepping in the path of the huge, swift,
rumbling vehicles.

But there were no railings at the intersections.

And at the next intersection, Maxwell stepped off the curb, shifted his
course just a fraction, and went on at a tangent that would have had him
smack in the middle of a truck-traffic lane.

* * * * *

I grabbed his arm and pulled hard, to get him headed back in the right
direction.

"What the hell are you trying to do--get yourself killed?"

Which was almost exactly what I'd started to say. But he was the one who
said it.

So I just said, "_Huh?_"

He jerked his arm free and continued walking--straight toward an
oncoming 100-ton semi.

I had a sudden idea of what was going on, and acted rapidly.

I set the defense mech down, because you can't handle a man Maxwell's
size with only one hand. I grabbed his arm again, this time with both
hands, and pulled as hard as I could. It jerked him off balance and out
of danger. The semi roared past.

And Maxwell turned on me with sudden, violent anger.

"Listen," he snapped, "what in hell's the matter with you? What do you
think you're doing?"

I didn't argue with him. I took careful aim and threw a haymaker,
giving it everything I had. It caught the point of his chin squarely and
jarred me to my ankle.

He swayed a little bit and his face went blank, but he didn't fall.

For which I shall be eternally grateful.

Another giant semi, still nearly a block away, was hurtling toward us.
If Maxwell had fallen, I could not possibly have dragged him out of the
way in time. And the semi couldn't have stopped in that distance.

As it was, I was able to snatch up the defense mech with one hand and
propel Maxwell to the opposite curb, just seconds before the truck went
by with a whiz and a rattle.

I got Maxwell onto an escalator leading to the second level before his
legs buckled. Then he went to his knees. I managed to get his arm around
my shoulder and hoist him back to his feet before we reached the top.

On the second level there were no vehicles; quite a few pedestrians
glided by in both directions, on several different speeds of ambulator
bands.

I spotted a bar down the street and dragged Maxwell onto a amband going
that way.

By the time I got him inside and settled in a booth, he was beginning to
recover, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

I