The roar of a racing motor car engine drew his attention. A touring car with four men flashed by as a dark streak. The motorcycle officer sprang on his machine and raced after the gunmen. Their response was a salvo of two sawed-off shotguns and four revolvers.
“I heard the bullets whizz by my head but I just gave my motorcycle the gun. I was mad clean through and wasn’t doing much thinking. I knew I wanted those birds, though.”
“They turned north on Alameda to Seventh Street and west on Seventh to Central. They were firing as fast as they could pull triggers. Then a bullet struck me in the right breast. I didn’t know at the time how badly I was hit. It almost jarred me from my seat.”
“So I shook my head as hard as I could to clear it and kept on. Another bullet tore through my sleeve and a third seared me below the hip. It stung terribly but all I could remember was getting madder. I reloaded my own gun on the fly. It was some job, but somehow I made it. I guess my rabbit’s foot was working overtime.”
“They stopped at Seventh and San Pedro and three got out. Each carried two guns. Two of them came toward me, firing as they ran. I let one have it. He spun around and fell. Only one bullet remained in my gun. I dodged behind another machine and let the second man have it. It crashed through his arm.”
“Then I told him I would kill him if he didn’t surrender, though my gun was empty. That rabbit’s foot certainly did work. He took me at my word and surrendered.”