The face of the man was indistinct, a mere outline, but the swift impulse to strike at it was irresistible, and I let him have the blow--a straight-arm jab to the jaw.

My clinched knuckles crunched against the flesh, and he reeled back, kept from falling only by the support of the deckhouse.

There was no report of a weapon, no outcry, yet, before I could strike again, I was suddenly gripped from behind by a pair of arms, which closed about my throat like a vise, throttling me instantly into silent helplessness.

I struggled madly to break free, straining with all the art of a wrestler, exerting every ounce of strength, but the grasp which held me was unyielding, robbing me of breath, and defeating every effort to call for help; Kirby, dazed yet by my sudden blow, and eager to take a hand in the affray, struck me a cowardly blow in the face, and swung his undischarged pistol to a level with my eyes.
"Damn you!" he ejaculated, and for the first time his voice really exhibited temper.

"I'd kill you with this, but for the noise.