At a tottering moment a blow from Pete’s hand
struck the ally and he crashed to the floor.
He wriggled instantly to his feet and grasping the
quiet stranger’s beer glass from the bar, hurled
it at Pete’s head.
High on the wall it burst like a bomb, shivering fragments
flying in all directions. Then missiles came
to every man’s hand. The place had heretofore
appeared free of things to throw, but suddenly glass
and bottles went singing through the air. They
were thrown point blank at bobbing heads. The
pyramid of shimmering glasses, that had never been
disturbed, changed to cascades as heavy bottles were
flung into them. Mirrors splintered to nothing.
The three frothing creatures on the floor buried themselves
in a frenzy for blood. There followed in the
wake of missiles and fists some unknown prayers, perhaps
for death.
The quiet stranger had sprawled very pyrotechnically
out on the sidewalk. A laugh ran up and down
the avenue for the half of a block.
“Dey’ve trowed a bloke inteh deh street.”
People heard the sound of breaking glass and shuffling
feet within the saloon and came running. A small
group, bending down to look under the bamboo doors,
watching the fall of glass, and three pairs of violent
legs, changed in a moment to a crowd.
A policeman came charging down the sidewalk and bounced
through the doors into the saloon. The crowd
bended and surged in absorbing anxiety to see.
Jimmie caught first sight of the on-coming interruption.
On his feet he had the same regard for a policeman
that, when on his truck, he had for a fire engine.
He howled and ran for the side door.
The officer made a terrific advance, club in hand.
One comprehensive sweep of the long night stick threw
the ally to the floor and forced Pete to a corner.
With his disengaged hand he made a furious effort
at Jimmie’s coat-tails. Then he regained
his balance and paused.
“Well, well, you are a pair of pictures.
What in hell yeh been up to?”
Jimmie, with his face drenched in blood, escaped up
a side street, pursued a short distance by some of
the more law-loving, or excited individuals of the
crowd.
Later, from a corner safely dark, he saw the policeman,
the ally and the bartender emerge from the saloon.
Pete locked the doors and then followed up the avenue
in the rear of the crowd-encompassed policeman and
his charge.
On first thoughts Jimmie, with his heart throbbing
at battle heat, started to go desperately to the rescue
of his friend, but he halted.
“Ah, what deh hell?” he demanded of himself.
