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"Follow me," he said, "but go quietly. Take off your shoes if you have 'em on, and

hang 'em around your neck--tie the ends of the laces together."

The men did as he bid and a moment later he was leading them across the room,

filled with sleeping men, women, children, and domestic animals. At the far side

stood a rack filled with long swords. Byrne removed two without the faintest

suspicion of a noise. He handed one to each of his companions, cautioning them

to silence with a gesture.

But neither Anthony Harding nor Billy Mallory had had second-story experience,

and the former struck his weapon accidentally against the door frame with a

resounding clatter that brought half the inmates of the room, wide-eyed, to sitting

postures. The sight that met the natives' eyes had them on their feet, yelling like

madmen, and dashing toward their escaping prisoners, in an instant.

Quick!" shouted Billy Byrne. "Follow me!"

Down the village street the three men ran, but the shouts of the natives had

brought armed samurai to every door with a celerity that was uncanny, and in

another moment the fugitives found themselves surrounded by a pack of howling

warriors who cut at them with long swords from every side, blocking their retreat

and hemming them in in every direction.

Byrne called to his companions to close in, back to back, and thus, the gangster

in advance, the three slowly fought their way toward the end of the narrow street

and the jungle beyond. The mucker fought with his long sword in one hand and

Theriere's revolver in the other--hewing a way toward freedom for the two men

whom he knew would take his love from him.

Beneath the brilliant tropic moon that lighted the scene almost as brilliantly as

might the sun himself the battle waged, and though the odds were painfully

uneven the white men moved steadily, though slowly, toward the jungle. It was

evident that the natives feared the giant white who led the three. Anthony

Harding, familiar with Japanese, could translate sufficient of their jargon to be

sure of that, had not the respectful distance most of them kept from Byrne been

ample proof.

Out of the village street they came at last into the clearing. The warriors danced

about them, yelling threats and taunts the while they made occasional dashes to

close quarters that they might deliver a swift sword cut and retreat again before

the great white devil could get them with the sword that had been Oda

Yorimoto's, or the strange fire stick that spoke in such a terrifying voice.

128

The Mucker