Then he saw the other coming, a dim, shapeless thing, that he kicked at viciously.

The boot must have landed, for he was suddenly free to strike the purple face fronting him, and fling the helpless rocking body in a huddled mass on the floor.
By God, it was over with; he had won breathing space, a chance to see what was about him.

Yet that was all.

The fellow he had kicked was already up, doubled from the pain of the blow, but with mad eyes glaring at him.

Hobart had struggled to his knees, cursing fiercely as he swept the blood out of his eyes.