"You'll need it," he said.

Again he raised a fist and brought it down with all his force. The
Austrian's arms relaxed their grip. He quivered a bit, and then sank back
unconscious. Uncle John got to his feet.

"I'm not so bad at that," he told himself modestly. "I wish the boys
could have been here to see that. Now to get out of here."

He moved toward the door, but even as he would have opened it, it moved
back and three men stepped inside. They saw Uncle John and the
unconscious form of Robard at first glance, and sprang upon Uncle John
with a shout.

Uncle John drew a long breath and waded into the midst of them.

The newcomers also proved to be novices in the fistic art, and as long as
Uncle John was able to keep them at long range he gave a good account of
himself. But, realizing that they were getting the worst of this kind of
fighting, one of the men gave a command to close in. In vain Uncle John
strove to keep them off. One threw himself to the floor, and avoiding a
heavy kick, grasped Uncle John by the leg, pulling him down. The others
piled on top of him.

Two minutes later Uncle John had ceased to struggle, and lay powerless in
the hands of his captors.

"Well, you've got me," he said. "Now what?"