up swiftly, and high enough to land against the lower
edge of the bravo's pistol wrist. In a jiffy the wrist was broken and
the pistol came clattering to the pavement.

"Much obliged," offered Runkle, snatching up the weapon. Then he
raised his voice to yell:

"If there are shipmates within hail let 'em hurry here to keep Jack
Runkle from killing a few rattlesnakes!"

Just in time to escape the points of two knives, Seaman Runkle backed
against a stucco wall, thrusting out the revolver and his able left
fist.

The first two men who leaped at him went down under the impact of that
fist. A third received a scalp wound from the butt of the revolver.
Any court would have exonerated the sailorman for killing his
assailants, but Dave's messenger was much too good-natured to kill
while there was another path to safety.

That kindliness undid Runkle's defense. As a man rushed him on each
side a third bravo dropped low in front of him and seized the seaman's
legs, upsetting him.

"Foul tackle, with a dozen to one!" growled Runkle, as he felt himself
going down.

Still he laid about, freeing his feet and using them while he plied
his left fist and struck out with the revolver. Even now he did not
want to press the trigger of the weapon, which was soon snatched away
from him.

With hoarse cries, several of the bravos now held the sailor so that
he could barely squirm.

Swiftly moving fingers roamed rapidly through his pockets. Then one of
the cowardly assailants snatched out of one of Runkle's pockets a
letter, muttering a few words to his companions.

Striking a match the thief glanced at the address on the envelope.
Even if he knew no English he could discern that the envelope was
addressed to Captain Allen of the "Hudson."

With another quick word the thief vanished through a doorway. Up from
the enraged sailor leaped those who had been holding him down.

"Sheer off there! Belay! belay!" growled several hoarse voices.
Rushing up, cat-footed, came a dozen or more fresh-faced, husky young
jackies from the fleet.

"Come on, mates! The maccaroni-eaters are sneaking away!" yelled the
foremost of the rescue party, that had come from the mole in answer to
Runkle's call.

Only two of the Italians were slow enough to be overtaken and
manhandled by the jackies. The rest of the assailants vanished swiftly
into nearby houses, the doors to which were instantly closed and
bolted.

For perhaps twenty seconds the two capt