from this deadly fighter. His bellow of triumph rang over the clamor.
His hat was off; his long black hair stood straight up in the wind; and
he leaped after them with flailing arms.

But now the police had managed to pry their way into the mass by dint
of indiscriminate battering. As the black-haired man came face to face
with the sergeant, the light gleamed on a high-swung club that thudded
home; and the big man dropped out of sight. He came up again almost at
once, but with men draped from every portion of his body. The soldiers
and police had joined forces, and once more a dozen men clutched him,
spilling over him like football players in a scrimmage. He was knocked
from his feet by the impact.

"Coming!" shouted Harrigan.

He raced with long strides, head lowered and back bowed until his long
arms nearly swept the ground. Gathering impetus at every stride, he
crushed into the floundering heap of arms and legs. The police sergeant
rose and whirled with lifted club. Harrigan grunted with joy as he dug
his left into the man's midsection. The sergeant collapsed upon the
ground, embracing his stomach with both arms. Harrigan jerked away the
upper layers of the attackers and dragged the black-haired man to his
feet.

"Shoulder to shoulder!" thundered Harrigan, and smote Officer Akana
upon the point of the chin.

The victory was not yet won. The black soldiers of Uncle Sam's regular
army need not take second place to any body of troops in the world.
These men had tasted their own blood and they came tearing in now for