"Oscar, Dad just called me," I told him. "A tip came in to the Times that Ravick's boys are going to fake a riot and Hallstock's cops are going to raid the meeting. They want Joe and Tom. You know what they'll do if they get hold of them." "Shot while resisting arrest. You sure this is a good tip, though?" Across the room, somebody jumped to his feet, kicking over a chair. "That's a double two-em-dashed lie, you etaoin shrdlu so-and-so!" somebody yelled. "Who are you calling a so-and-so, you thus-and-so-ing such-and-such?" somebody else yelled back, and a couple more chairs got smashed and a swirl of fighting started. "Yes, it is," Oscar decided. "Let's go." We started plowing through the crowd toward where the Kivelsons and a couple more of the _Javelin_ crew were clumped. I got one of the rolls of quarter sols into my right fist and let Oscar go ahead. He has more mass than I have. It was a good thing I did, because before we had gone ten feet, some character got between us, dragged a two-foot length of inch-and-a-half high-pressure hose out of his pant leg, and started to swing at the back of Oscar's head. I promptly clipped him behind the ear with a fist full of money, and down he went. Oscar, who must have eyes in the back of his head, turned and grabbed the hose out of his hand before he dropped it, using it to clout somebody in front of him. Somebody else came pushing toward us, and I was about to clip him, too, when he yelled, "Watch it, Walt; I'm with it!" It was Cesário Vieira, another _Javelin_ man; he's engaged to Linda Kivelson, Joe's daughter and Tom's sister, the one going to school on Terra. Then we had reached Tom and Joe Kivelson. Oscar grabbed Joe by the arm. "Come on, Joe; let's get moving," he said. "Hallstock's Gestapo are on the way. They have orders to get you dead or alive." "Like blazes!" Joe told him. "I never chickened out on a fight yet, and--" That's what I'd been afraid of. Joe is like a Zarathustra veldtbeest; the only tactics he knows is a headlong attack. "You want to get your crew and your son killed, and yourself along with them?" Oscar asked him. "That's what'll happen if the cops catch you. Now are you coming, or will I have to knock you senseless and drag you out?" Fortunately, at that moment somebody took a swing at Joe and grazed his cheek. It was a good thing that was all he did; he was wearing brass knuckles. Joe went down a couple of feet, bending at the knees, and caught this fellow around the hips with both hands, straightening and lifting him over his head. Then he threw him over the heads of the people in front of him. There were yells where the human missile landed. "That's the stuff, Joe!" Oscar shouted. "Come on, we got them on the run!"