I've used a pick-handle on occasion and a gun when I've had to, but speaking generally it seems to me to demean a white man to use weapons in a row like that, and I find that most fellows who have walked the earth much agree with me.
We tried to go in like a typhoon, shock-troop style, but it didn't work.
Another man let go of Yussuf Dakmar, who was growing weak and too short of wind to yell, and in a moment there were five of us struggling on the floor between the seats, one man under me with my forearm across his throat and another alongside me, stabbing savagely at a leather valise under the impression that he was carving up my ribs.

On top of that mess Narayan Singh pounced like a tiger, wrenching at arms and legs until I struggled to my feet again--only to be thrust aside by Jeremy as he rose and rushed at Yussuf Dakmar's two assailants.
But with all his speed Jeremy was a tenth of a tick too late.

The wretch was already helpless, and I dare say they broke his back as they leaned their combined weight on him and forced him backward and head-first through the window.

Jeremy made a grab for his foot, but missed it, and a knife-blade already wet with Yussuf Dakmar's blood whipped out and stung him in the thigh.

That, of course, was sheer ignorance.