"You first, then, Millard!" cried the young acting naval officer.
Full of purpose, Lieutenant Jack pressed the trigger. It stuck. No
report followed. That blow from the cudgel had jammed the cylinder.
Having dropped the senseless form of Daisy Huston in the cab the driver
sprang to the box, lashing the horses, just as Lieutenant Benson
discovered the uselessness of his weapon as a firearm.
Then, indeed, young Benson knew that this must be a fight to the very
death. Yet he was a naval officer at heart, as much as by special
appointment. At a time like this he held life cheaply.
The first man to get within reach was laid flat by a blow with the butt
of Jack's revolver.
Instantly young Benson wheeled, to strike at another pressing foe.
Instead, he received a glancing though painful blow on his own left
shoulder. Ere the assailant could recover, however, Benson leaped at
him and would have felled him had not Millard himself leaped in,
striking up the young naval officer's arm.
Once more Lieutenant Jack leaped back. His whole body was alert, nerves
and muscles responding magnificently. He fairly vibrated defense.
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