Yet this was not what she feared, this saturnalia of unbridled passion, for the way was comparatively well lighted, and in traversing it she was reasonably certain to be within call of some one sober enough to protect her from insult or injury.  Even in drink these men remained courteous to women of the right sort.  No, she had travelled that path alone at night before, again and again, returning from her work.  She shrank, womanlike, from the sights and sounds, but was conscious of no personal fear.  What she dreaded beyond expression was that long, black stretch of narrow, desolate alley-way leading down toward the creek bridge and the old fort beyond.  She had been over that path once in broad daylight, and it made her shudder to think she must now feel her way there alone through the dark.  The growing fear of it got upon her nerves as she stood hesitating; then, almost angry with herself, she advanced swiftly down toward the distant glowing lights of the Gayety.  It was just beyond there that the alley turned off toward the foothills, a mere thread of a path wandering amid a maze of unlighted tents and disreputable shacks; she remembered this, and the single rotten strip of plank which answered for a sidewalk.

There was an unusually boisterous, quarrelsome crowd congregated in front of the Poodle-Dog, and she turned aside into the middle of the street in order to get past undisturbed.  Some one called noisily for her to wait and have a drink, but she never glanced about, or gave slightest heed.  At the curb a drunken woman reeled against her, peering sneeringly into her face with ribald laugh, but Beth Norvell pushed silently past, and vanished into the protecting shadows beyond.

The wide doors of the brilliantly illuminated Gayety were flung open, the bright light from within streaming far across the road.  Many of its patrons, heated with liquor and the dance, had swarmed forth upon the broad platform outside in search of fresher air.  To avoid pushing her way through this noisy crowd the girl swiftly crossed the street into the darkness opposite.  As she paused there for an instant, scarcely conscious that the glow of the lamps reflected full upon her face, there sounded a sudden clatter of horses’ hoofs to her right, and a half-dozen riders swept around the sharp corner, dashing forward into the glare.  She had barely time in which to leap backward out of their direct path, when one of the horsemen jerked his mount upon its haunches, and, uttering an oath of astonishment, leaned forward across his pommel, staring down into her startled face.  Then he laughed.

“Go on, boys,” he cried, sitting erect, with a wave of his hand to the others.  “I ’ll catch up within half a mile.  I ’ve got a word to say first to this precious dove fluttering here.”  He struck the flank of his horse, causing the sensitive beast to quiver, his own lips curling maliciously.  The girl, panting between parted lips, never lowered her eyes from his face, and the steady look angered him.