“Yes. He’s coming to. Prod him again. —— him! He delayed us, and every
minute counts.”
Once more the heavy blow fell on my side. I opened my eyes wearily.
Painfully turning my head I looked toward my side and made out a heavy
boot. Some one had been kicking me. My eyes moved up the boot; Garvin
was its owner. The sight of his gross face brought back memory and
consciousness. There was blood on his mouth; in the lower lip was a
long cut, and I was glad.
Garvin was staring at me with a mingling of curiosity and respect in
his expression.
“Where the —— did you learn that punch in the Adam’s apple?” he said.
“That’s a new one to me. And, say, you’re quick; quickest man I ever
see; and you’re all there for a middle-weight, bo.”
“Who hit me in the back of the head?” I demanded weakly. “That was a
cowardly blow.”