These handcuffs, Kirk saw, were of the type used upon desperate
criminals, consisting of chains fitted with handles so contrived
that a mere twist of the officer's hand would cut the prisoner's
flesh to the bone.

"You don't need to do that," he assured the fellow who had made
the arrest, but, instead of heeding his words, the men on each
side of the Jamaican twisted stoutly, forcing the black boy to cry
out in pain. He hung back, protesting:

"All right, sar, I'll come. I'll come."

But again they tightened their instruments of torture, and their
victim began to struggle. At this an evil-faced man in blue struck
him brutally upon the head with his club, then upon the shoulders,
as if to silence his groans. The boy flung up his manacled hands
to shield himself, and the light from a street lamp showed blood
flowing where the chains had cut. The whole proceeding was so
unprovoked, so sickening in its cruelty, that Kirk, who until this
instant had looked upon the affair as a rather enjoyable lark,
flew into a fury and, disregarding his own captors, leaped forward
before the policeman could strike a third time. He swung his fist,
and the man with the club hurtled across the street as if shot
from a bow, then lay still in the gutter. With another blow he
felled one of the handcuff-men, but at the same time other hands
grasped at him and he was forced to lay about vigorously on all
sides.

They rushed him with the ferocity of mad dogs, and he knocked them
spinning, one after another. A whistle blew shrilly, other