'Look out!' yelled Ken again, as he realised what the man was after. He
was desperate, and meant to turn the gun full upon the packed crowd,
destroying friend and foe alike.
He had got the gun round, his finger was almost on the button when Ken
reached him, and going at him head down, like a Rugby tackier, flung both
arms around his waist.
[Illustration: 'On every side revolvers were cracking.']
With a fierce exclamation, the man hit out with his fist, but the blow
fell harmlessly on Ken's back. Then, twining both hands in Ken's collar,
he made a frantic effort to break his grip and fling him aside.
Ken held on like grim death. If he failed, it meant death for all his
friends. The other was a powerful, wiry man in the prime of life, while
Ken had not yet come to his full strength. For some seconds they struggled
fiercely, the Turk exerting every effort to reach the gun, Ken straining
frantically to hold him off.
Ken's heel caught in a ring bolt. He felt himself falling, but managed to
drag the other down with him.
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