There were no street lamps, and only a short stretch
of wooden sidewalk, but lights blazed in various windows, shedding
illumination without, and revealing an animated scene.
They went forward, Westcott, in spite of his confident words, watchful
and silent, the valise in one hand, the other grasping her arm. The
narrow stretch of sidewalk was jammed with men, surging in and out
through the open door of a saloon, and the two held to the middle of
the road, which was lined with horses tied to long poles. Men reeled
out into the street, and occasionally the sharp crack of some
frolicsome revolver punctuated the hoarse shouts and bursts of drunken
laughter. No other woman was visible, yet, apparently, no particular
attention was paid to their progress. But the stream of men thickened
perceptibly, until Westcott was obliged to shoulder them aside
good-humouredly in order to open a passage. The girl, glancing in
through the open doors, saw crowded bar-rooms, and eager groups about
gambling tables. One place dazzlingly lighted was evidently a
dance-hall, but so densely jammed with humanity she could not
distinguish the dancers.
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