and all his
works--and getting the challenge accepted. Girls would flit across the
lit windows like shadows before flames, or stand in the doorways hailing
the men jovially by name. And every few moments, above the roar of this
wild inferno, would sound the sudden crash and the dull blows of combat.
Only, never was heard the bark of the pistol. The fighting was fierce,
and it included kicking with the sharp steel boot-caulks, biting and
gouging; but it barred knives and firearms. And when Hell's Half-Mile
was thus in full eruption, the citizens of Redding stayed away from
Water Street after dark. "Drive's in," said they, and had business
elsewhere. And the next group of rivermen, hurrying toward the fun,
broke into an eager dog-trot. "Taking the old town apart to-night," they
told each other. "Let's get in the game."

To-night, however, the street was comparatively quiet. The saloons were
of modified illumination. In many of them men stood drinking, but in
a sociable rather than a hilarious mood. Old friends of the two
drives were getting together for a friendly glass. The barkeepers were
listlessly wiping the bars. The "pretty waiter-girls" gossiped with each
other and yawned behind their hands. From several doorways Orde's little
compact group was accosted by the burly saloonkeepers.

"Hullo, boys!" said they invariably, "glad to see you back. Come in and
have a drink on me."

Well these men knew that one free drink would mean a dozen paid for. But
the rivermen merely shook their heads.

"Huh!" sneered one of the girls. "Them's no river-jacks! Them's just off
the hay trail, I bet!"

But even this time-honoured and generally effective taunt was ignored.

In the middle of the third block Orde wheeled sharp to the left down a
dark and dangerous-looking alley. Another turn to the right brought him
into a very narrow street. Facing this street stood a three-story wooden
structure, into which led a high-arched entrance up a broad half-flight
of wooden steps. This was McNeill's.

As Orde and his men turned into the narrow street, a figure detached
itself from the shadow and approached. Orde uttered an exclamation.

"You here, Newmark?" he cried.

"Yes," replied that young man. "I want to see this through."

"With those clothes?" marvelled Orde. "It's a wonder some of these thugs
haven't held you up long ago! I'll get Johnny here to go back with you
to the main street."

"No," argued Newmark, "I want to go in wi