p! Ensign Darrin struck up the arm of the first scoundrel to reach
for him. In a twinkling Dave had broken that rascal's right wrist,
forcing the fellow to drop his weapon.

Like a flash Dave caught his victim up, holding him overhead and
sending the bravo, heels first, into the face of another scoundrel.
The man, struck by this human missile, went to earth dazed, and with a
broken jaw to boot.

Dalzell, too, was proving the stuff that was in him. Dodging a
descending hand that held a knife, then landing a smashing blow over
the fellow's heart, Dan sent him to earth. At that instant a knife
would have gone through Danny Grin's ribs had not Dalzell let one of
his feet fly with such speed and skill as to break another bravo's
shin-bone.

Crouching low, Dave received still another assailant. Seizing him
below the knees, then rising, he hurled the ruffian over backward on
his head, the fall nearly snapping the owner's spine at the neck and
leaving him unconscious.

Two more men were quickly downed, and seemed inclined to stay there.
The young ensigns had not received a scratch so far, which was due as
much to luck as to their own skill.

Now a wail of terror rose on the air. Two of the bravos took fairly to
their heels. The rest wavered, then gave way, glaring with sullen
looks at these young Americans who could fight so terribly without
weapons.

"Come on!" urged Dave, in a low voice. "Let's get out of here! There
is no credit in staying here and taking on more fighting. Let's hurry
while the hurrying is good."

Only one of the bravos was ahead of them as the young naval officers
began their sprint. That fellow was trying to get out of harm's way,
but hearing pursuit at his heels, the frightened fellow halted
suddenly, wheeled and struck out with his knife at Ensign Darrin.

Dave dodged, then landed both fists against the ruffian's ribs,
knocking the fellow clean through a window with a great crashing of
glass.

"Hustle!" muttered Dalzell, as he halted to wait for his chum. "There
may be a hundred more of these fellows who can be called out on a
single block."

But there was no pursuit. The bravos had had enough. Afterwards it was
a matter of local report that two of the rascals handled by Darrin and
Dalzell all but died of their injuries. The Strada di Mara contained
no bravos reckless enough to follow these incredible Americans on this
wild night of trouble.

Still sprinting, Dave, with Dan at his heels,