The
intermittent throb of a piano and twang of a violin, making merry with
the misery of the world; voices brokenly above it all came at intervals,
loudly as the way drew nearer.

The saloon doors swung again and four or five dark figures jostled
noisily out and came haltingly down the street. They walked crazily,
like ships without a rudder, veering from one side of the walk to the
other, shouting and singing uncouth, ribald songs, hoarse laughter
interspersed with scattered oaths.

"O! Jesus Christ!" came distinctly through the quiet night. The young
man felt a distinct pain for the Christ by his side, like the pressing
of a thorn into the brow. He seemed to know the prick himself. For these
were some of those for whom He died!

It occurred to Courtland that he was seeing everything on this walk
through the eyes of the Christ. He remembered Scrooge and his journey
with the Ghost of Christmas Past in Dickens's _Christmas Carol_. It was
like that. He was seeing the real soul of everybody! He was with the
architect of the universe, noting where the work had gone wrong from the
mighty plans. He suddenly knew that these creatures coming giddily
toward him were planned to mighty things!

The figures paused before one of the dark houses, pointed and laughed;
went nearer to the steps and stooped. He could not hear what they were
saying; the voices were hushed in ugly whispers, broken by harsh
laughter. Only now and then he caught a syllable.

"Wake up!" floated out into the silence once. And again, "No, you don't,
my pretty little chicken!"

Then a girl's scream pierced the night and something darted out from the
darkness of the door-step, eluding the drunken men, but slipped and
fell!

Courtland broke into a noiseless run.

The men had scrambled tipsily after the girl and clutched her. They
lifted her unsteadily and surrounded her. She screamed again, and dashed
this way and that blindly, but they met her every time and held her.

Courtland knew, as by a flash, that he had been brought here for this
crisis. It was as if he had heard the words spoken to him, "Now go!" He,
lowering his head and crouching, came swiftly forward, watching
carefully where he steered, and coming straight at two of the men with
his powerful shoulders. It was an old trick of the football field and it
bowled the two assailants on the right straight out into the gutter. The
other three made a dash at him, but he side-stepped one and tripped