hurled himself up on it. Several hands grabbed for his swinging legs and he had to kick them loose before he found himself, panting but free, atop the car.
Speedy scrambled at once to his feet, in time to smack down with the bat two enterprising heads of Callahanites attempting to follow his aerial example. But his worries were by no means over. Behind him, at the other end of the car, the enemy was trying to swarm up after him. He leaped into the breach and swung lustily at them. With the strategic advantage of a higher position in his favor, he finally forced them down, skipping around like a ballet dancer to elude the snatching hands making desperate attempts to seize his ankles.
For a second he thought all was lost as a big ham of a hand clasped a death-like grip on his left leg and jerked him down to his knees. Try as he would, he could not shake himself free. Another second and his imprisoned leg was over the side of the car and steadily being drawn down. In another minute he would be yanked clear and plunged down into the street in the midst of the embattled mob. In his agony of effort, he looked down and saw the red, straining face of Puggy Callahan. Holding his baseball bat like a billiard cue, Speedy plunged it into the stub nose of the Irishman with all his force. With a roar of pain, Callahan fell back. His locked fingers slipped from Speedy's leg. The lad was free. He quickly scurried back to the car top and scrambled to his feet.
Still the foe kept mounting up toward him. But
