The Fortune Hunters Read Online Free PDF

about correcting matters.
    ‘You lousy, stinking skunk!’
    The words left Dusty’s mouth as he shot forward. His right fist drove out, the knuckles exploding on Cohen’s mouth, snapping the man’s head back and staggering him away from the girl. She crawled weakly across the room. Vicious weals left by the belt showed across her back. Glancing at the girl, Dusty saw the marks which proved to be unfortunate—for Cohen.
    ‘Why, you short runt!’ Cohen gasped, spitting blood. ‘I’ll tear you apart.’
    ‘Keep out of it, Ed!’ Dusty barked.
    Leaping forward, Cohen lashed his hand around. The belt coiled up and behind Cohen then slashed forward across Dusty’s back. The small Texan felt the bite through his jacket, shirt and undershirt, so could guess how the girl must have suffered. Even as Cohen drew back his hand for another blow, Dusty sprang in. Two punches then a knee smashed into the bigger man’s stomach. Cohen gave a squawk and staggered back, his hands dropping to his sides. Jumping forward, Dusty stamped on the belt buckle and pinned it to the floor. He ripped a punch to Cohen’s jaw and sent the man backwards, causing him to lose his hold on the belt. Cohen swung a blow which caught Dusty at the side of the head and knocked the small Texan staggering.
    Stabbing down his right hand, Cohen brought a knife from his pocket, jerking open the blade. He had everything in his favour, or so it seemed, height, weight, heavy muscles and a knowledge of roughhouse fighting, yet he still pulled the knife.
    ‘Leave him!’ Dusty roared at Ballinger before the detective could move.
    Snarling like an animal, Cohen came forward. The knife licked out towards Dusty’s body in a vicious upwards slash.
    ‘Yeeah!’ Dusty yelled, jerking off his hat and throwing the heavy Stetson full into Cohen’s snarling face.
    His sudden move distracted Cohen and in almost the same movement Dusty showed some of the Oriental fighting science called Karate which he had learned from Ole Devil Hardin’s Japanese servant.
    Leaning his body to one side, Dusty raised a leg and swung it in a circular motion so that the edge of his foot smashed against Cohen’s knife-wrist. The blow came so unexpectedly, and with such power, that Cohen thought his wrist was broken. The knife clattered to the floor and Cohen twisted desperately away from Dusty. Twice more, almost too fast to follow, Dusty kicked, smashing the ball of his foot into Cohen’s side. He sent the burly man reeling across the room and caused some of the watching youngsters to jump hurriedly aside.
    Cohen felt as if his ribs had been caved in. The keriwaza kicking techniques of karate were very effective and deadly when performed by a master like Dusty. In fact Dusty refrained from using his full strength when delivering the kicks for he had no wish to kill the man.
    Once again Cohen flung himself into the attack, relying on his extra weight to smash Dusty down; which was a hawg-stupid way to go about handling Dusty Fog if Cohen had but known. Dusty did not try to avoid the rush. Instead he moved to meet it, left hand catching Cohen’s right arm just behind the elbow, left foot moving into place to allow him to pivot so his hips rammed into the other man. At the same moment Dusty brought his right arm twisting around and under Cohen’s trapped limb and gripping his own left wrist for added leverage. Bending his legs and inclining his body forward, Dusty catapulted Cohen straight over his shoulder.
    To the watchers it seemed that Cohen had taken wings, for the man sailed up into the air and landed with a crash on the table in the centre of the room. It crumpled under the man’s weight, legs collapsing and drawer bursting open. On the whole, even though a Colt Cloverleaf revolver lay inside, Cohen would have preferred the drawer to stay closed while Detective Lieutenant Ballinger was present. Inside the drawer lay a pile of wallets, watches, purses and other items gathered in by his