revenge.

Harrigan, standing full in front of the rescued man until the latter
should have recovered his breath, found food for both fists, and his
love of battle was fed. The other man had fought stiffly erect,
standing with feet braced to give the weight of his whole body to every
punch; Harrigan raged back and forth like a panther, avoiding blows by
the catlike agility of his movements, which left both hands free to
strike sledge-hammer blows. Presently he heard a chuckling at his side.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black-haired man come into the
battle, straight and stiff as before, with long arms shooting out like
pistons.

It was a glorious sight. Something made Harrigan's heart big; rose and
swelled his throat; rose again and came as a wild yell upon his tongue.
The unfortunates who have faced Irish legions in battle know that yell.
The soldiers did not know it, and they held back for a moment.
Something else lowered their spirits still more. It was the clanging of
the police patrol as it swung to a halt and a body of reserves poured
out.

"Here comes our finish!" panted Harrigan to his comrade in arms. "But
oh, man, I'm thinkin' it was swate while it lasted!"

In his great moments the Irish brogue thronged thick upon his tongue.

"Finish, hell!" grunted the other. "After me, lad!"

And lowering his head like a bull, he drove forward against the crowd.
Harrigan caught the idea in a flash. He put his shoulder to the hip of