r would be in command of some of these men. In as
little as a week he would go into a full-fledged fracas with them. He
couldn't afford to lose face. Not even at this point when all, including
himself, were still civilian garbed. When matters pickled, in a fracas,
you wanted men with complete confidence in you.

* * * * *

The man who had grumbled the surly response was a near physical twin of
Joe Mauser which put him in his early thirties, gave him five foot
eleven of altitude and about one hundred and eighty pounds. His clothes
casted him Low-Lower--nothing to lose. As with many who have nothing to
lose, he was willing to risk all for principle. His face now registered
that ideal. Joe Mauser had no authority over him, nor his friends.

Joe's eyes flicked to the other two who had been pestering the little
fellow. They weren't quite so aggressive and as yet had come to no
conclusion about their stand. Probably the three had been unacquainted
before their bullying alliance to deprive the smaller man of his place.
However, a moment of hesitation and Joe would have a trio on his hands.

He went through no further verbal preliminaries. Joe Mauser stepped
closer. His right hand lanced forward, not doubled in a fist but fingers
close together and pointed, spear-like. He sank it into the other's
abdomen, immediately below the rib cage--the solar plexus.

He had misestimated the other two. Even as his opponent crumpled, they
were upon him, coming in from each side. And at least one of them, he
could see now, had been in hand-to-hand combat before. In short, another
pro, like Joe himself.

He took one blow, rolling with it, and his feet automatically went into
the shuffle of the trained fighter. He retreated slightly to erect
defenses, plan attack. They pressed him strongly, sensing victory in his
retreat.

The one mattered little to him. Joe Mauser could have polished off the
oaf in a matter of seconds, had he been allotted seconds to devote. But
the second, the experienced one, was the problem. He and Joe were well
matched and with the oaf as an ally really he had all the best of it.

Support came from a forgotten source, the little chap who had been the
reason for the whole hassle. He waded in now as big as the next man so
far as spirit was concerned, but a sorry fate gave him to attack the
wrong man, the veteran rather than the tyro. He took a crashing blow to
the side of his head which