The sergeant collapsed upon the ground, embracing his stomach with both arms.

Harrigan jerked away the upper layers of the attackers and dragged the black-haired man to his feet.
"Shoulder to shoulder!" thundered Harrigan, and smote Officer Akana upon the point of the chin.
The victory was not yet won.

The black soldiers of Uncle Sam's regular army need not take second place to any body of troops in the world.
These men had tasted their own blood and they came tearing in now for revenge.
Harrigan, standing full in front of the rescued man until the latter should have recovered his breath, found food for both fists, and his love of battle was fed.

The other man had fought stiffly erect, standing with feet braced to give the weight of his whole body to every punch; Harrigan raged back and forth like a panther, avoiding blows by the catlike agility of his movements, which left both hands free to strike sledge-hammer blows.

Presently he heard a chuckling at his side.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black-haired man come into the battle, straight and stiff as before, with long arms shooting out like pistons.
It was a glorious sight.