“Get out of the way.  That woman’s a runaway,” came from the one highest on the ladder.

“So I jedge.”

“She broke qu—­”

“Shut up!” broke in another.  “Do you want to advertise it?  Get out of the way, there, ye damn fool!  Climb up, Thorsen.”  He spoke like a bucko mate, and his words stirred the bile of Dextry.

Thorsen grasped the dock floor, trying to climb up, but the old miner stamped on his fingers and the sailor loosened his hold with a yell, carrying the under men with him to the beach in his fall.

“This way!  Follow me!” shouted the mate, making up the bank for the shore end of the wharf.

“You’d better pull your freight, miss,” Dextry remarked; “they’ll be here in a minute.”

“Yes, yes!  Let us go!  I must get aboard the Santa Maria.  She’s leaving now.  Come, come!”

Glenister laughed, as though there were a humorous touch in her remark, but did not stir.

“I’m gettin’ awful old an’ stiff to run,” said Dextry, removing his mackinaw, “but I allow I ain’t too old for a little diversion in the way of a rough-house when it comes nosin’ around.”  He moved lightly, though the girl could see in the half-darkness that his hair was silvery.

“What do you mean?” she questioned, sharply.

“You hurry along, miss; we’ll toy with ’em till you’re aboard.”  They stepped across to the dockhouse, backing against it.  The girl followed.

Again came the warning blast from the steamer, and the voice of an officer: 

“Clear away that stern line!”

“Oh, we’ll be left!” she breathed, and somehow it struck Glenister that she feared this more than the men whose approaching feet he heard.

“You can make it all right,” he urged her, roughly.  “You’ll get hurt if you stay here.  Run along and don’t mind us.  We’ve been thirty days on shipboard, and were praying for something to happen.”  His voice was boyishly glad, as if he exulted in the fray that was to come; and no sooner had he spoken than the sailors came out of the darkness upon them.

During the space of a few heart-beats there was only a tangle of whirling forms with the sound of fist on flesh, then the blot split up and forms plunged outward, falling heavily.  Again the sailors rushed, attempting to clinch.  They massed upon Dextry only to grasp empty air, for he shifted with remarkable agility, striking bitterly, as an old wolf snaps.  It was baffling work, however, for in the darkness his blows fell short or overreached.

Glenister, on the other hand, stood carelessly, beating the men off as they came to him.  He laughed gloatingly, deep in his throat, as though the encounter were merely some rough sport.  The girl shuddered, for the desperate silence of the attacking men terrified her more than a din, and yet she stayed, crouched against the wall.

Dextry swung at a dim target, and, missing it, was whirled off his balance.  Instantly his antagonist grappled with him, and they fell to the floor, while a third man shuffled about them.  The girl throttled a scream.