metal of the car dashboard with a resounding whack and the gang leader was for an instant hors de combat. He retained his senses enough, however, to yell at the third thug, who was reaching angrily in his hip pocket for the thing that bulged there, "No shootin', Muggs! Remember Carter's orders!"
Speedy heard and inwardly rejoiced at this. At rough-and-tumble fighting, minus firearms, he was confident his followers were an even match for their foes.
But he had little time to think about anything during the next few minutes except to prevent himself from being annihilated. The first thug drew a blackjack and made desperate efforts to force Speedy to remain still long enough to have his skull cracked. Speedy's answer was to leap into a corner and produce his ball bat. His first furious swipe with this caught the blackjack-wielder a glancing blow on the jaw, enough to send him tumbling to the floor. But Puggy was now on his feet again. And the would-be gunman, having again concealed his cannon in obedience to orders, was flailing wildly about with fists adorned with an evil-looking pair of brass knuckles.
Meantime the region around the car was a mass of fighting, kicking, yelling mêlée. The halting of the car had brought Callahan's men on the run from both sides of the street. And Speedy's signal had been similarly effective. From shops and houses, from alleyways and byways, the males of De Lacey Street came tearing, eager for the fray. Many of them seemed to leap up out of the ground.
