“I seen thin she hed fainted in Lee’s arms.  He lifted her—­moved away—­an’ thin I seen no more of thim.

“Durade made wild an’ wicked lunges at Neale, only to be jerked off his balance.  I heerd the bones crack in the arm Neale held.  The greaser screamed.  Sudden he wuz turned agin, an’ swung backwards so thot Neale grabbed the other arm—­the wan wot held the knife.  It wuz a child in the grasp of a giant.  Neale shure looked beautiful, I niver wished so much in me loife fer Casey as thin.  He would hev enjoyed thot foight, fer he bragged of his friendship fer Neale.  An’—­”

“Go on, man, end your story!” ordered the general, breathlessly.

“Wal, b’gorra, there wuz more crackin’ of bones, an’ sich screams as I niver heerd from a mon.  Tumble, blood-curdlin’! ...  Neale held both Durade’s hands an’ wuz squeezin’ thot knife-handle so the greaser couldn’t let go.

“Thin Neale drew out thot hand of Durade’s—­the wan wot held the knife—­an’ made Durade jab himself, low down! ...  My Gawd! how thot jenteel Spaniard howled!  I seen the blade go in an’ come out red.  Thin Slingerland tore thim apart, an’ the greaser fell.  He warn’t killed.  Mebbe he ain’t goin’ to croak.  But he’ll shure hev to l’ave Roarin’ City, an he’ll shure be a cripple fer loife.”

McDermott looked at the empty glass.

“That’s all, Gineral.  An’ if it’s jist the same to yez I’ll hev another drink.”

32

The mere sight of Warren Neale had transformed life for Allie Lee.  The shame of being forced to meet degraded men, the pain from Durade’s blows, the dread that every hour he would do the worst by her or kill her, the sudden and amazing recognition between her and her father—­these became dwarfed and blurred in the presence of the glorious truth that Neale was there.

She had recognized him with reeling senses and through darkening eyes.  She had seen him leap before her father to confront that glittering-eyed Durade.  She had neither fear for him nor pity for the Spaniard.

Sensations of falling, of being carried, of the light and dust and noise of the street, of men around her, of rooms and the murmur of voices, of being worked over and spoken to by a kindly woman, of swallowing what was put to her mouth, of answering questions, of letting other clothes be put upon her; she was as if in a trance, aware of all going on about her, but with consciousness riveted upon one stunning fact—­his presence.  When she was left alone this state gradually wore away, and there remained a throbbing, quivering suspense of love.  Her despair had ended.  The spirit that had upheld her through all the long, dark hours had reached its fulfilment.

She lay on a couch in a small room curtained off from another, the latter large and light, and from which came a sound of low voices.  She heard the quick tread of men; a door opened.

“Lee, I congratulate you.  A narrow escape!” exclaimed a deep voice, with something sharp, authoritative in it.