“Look here,” he snarled, squinting at me, “I don’t know who you are, but
I’ll let you know who I am blamed quick.”
I don’t know just what he might have done to me if he had been
sober--but he wasn’t sober. I was, and my line of work had made me lithe
and quick. I snapped my man before he had time to open his mouth, and
ran him off that turn-table and presented him to his daughter with my
compliments. He kicked and thrashed around in a logy style, and I kept
him circling so that he could not get foothold, on the same principle
that you keep a boa-constrictor from hooking his tail around a tree.
“Where will you have him delivered, miss?” I asked, as politely as I
could.
“Father, you come along with me this instant!” she cried. “We don’t want
strangers interfering in our affairs any longer.” She said that to him
for my benefit.
“I don’t mean to be interfering, miss,” I pleaded. “I only want to
square myself for being thoughtless and starting trouble for you--more
trouble, I mean.”
She put her hand against me and pushed me away from her father--no, I
can hardly say that I was pushed away. That hand was too little to push
a man of my size. But the gesture of pushing was enough for me. I let
him loose. She reached for his ear, but he dodged away, cantering like
a cart-horse, and whooped that he was bound for the “Barbary Coast.” The
human belay-ing-pin with the oakum topknot followed, plainly relishing
the fact that the procession had started. The girl took a few steps in
pursuit, and then she stopped and began to cry. She had grit--I had
seen that--but after a girl gets about so mad she has to cry on general
principles.
“Look here,” I told her, “I’m a stranger, all right, but you need a
man’s help right now. I’ll help for every ounce that’s in me if you’ll
say the word. But I’m a Yankee and I need to be asked.”
“He has a lot of money in his pockets,” she sobbed. “He must pay out
that money to-morrow morning. He will be butchered and robbed where he’s
going. I never saw him so silly and obstinate before. His head has been
turned by some good luck which has come to him. He--”
“I haven’t got time to listen to details, miss. He’s getting out of
sight. I’ve got to work quick. I’m square and decent and honest, and
I’m mighty sorry for the scrape you are in. Do you want me to chase that
father of yours for you?”
“Yes,” she gasped; “yes, I do.”
“About all I’m worth in the world is in that bag there. It’s my
diving-dress. I’ve got to leave it.”
“Your name is Sidney!” she cried, her eyes opening wide on me. “You’re
the man we came to meet!”
So, after all, I had butted in on my reception committee! “And that’s
Captain Holstrom?” I demanded, pointing up the street.
“Yes! Yes! Hurry, sir. I will watch your bag! I will stay here. Hurry,
sir! He has gone up Market Street, but he’ll turn to the right pretty
soon. That’s the way to the horrible Barbary Coast.”
I patted her shoulder--I couldn’t help it. She looked up at me through
her tears. And off I hiked, leaving my earthly possessions in charge of
a girl whom I had met for the first time less than ten minutes before.
Of course, I knew what every one knows, whether he has been in San
Francisco or not, that Market Street cuts straight across the city
from bay to ocean. But at just what street on the course Captain Rask
Holstrom proceeded to port his helm and swing to starboard blessed if
I had the least idea. I didn’t know the name of another street in the
city. I knew what the Barbary Coast was in San Francisco. I had read
descriptions of its dance-halls, its dens, its haunts of iniquity, and
its dangers. And here I was, galloping straight toward it before the
creases of a railroad journey across the continent were out of my
clothes. That is to say, I hoped I was galloping toward it, for I wanted
to catch father for that nice girl. Captain Holstrom was out of sight
among the crowds on that long Market Street before I had started the
chase. I didn’t dare to run too fast.
San Francisco, as I have said, seemed to be inclined to let a man tend
to his own business, but I didn’t want to provoke some ass to start a
“stop thief” yell behind me. I craned and peered ahead as I trotted
on. I stopped for a moment at the head of streets which led away to the
right--the girl had said he would turn to the right--but I caught no
glimpse of a bobbing blue cap nor of a lofty thatch of grizzled beard
and whisker.
I took a chance after a while, for Market Street showed ahead an upward
slope and I couldn’t spot my man there. I turned off to the right, and
hurried. I didn’t know what street I was on. I came to a square at last
where there were a statue and a fountain, and there were large buildings
on the right. I ran across the square, and the next moment I realized
that I was in Chinatown--and I had read of that part of San Francisco,
too. I knew then that I was headed toward the Barbary Coast all right,
having a memory of what I had read. But in a few minutes I was lost in
a maze of narrow streets which traveled up and down the little hills.
I was peering and goggling here and there. I must have looked like a
tourist trying to do Chinatown in record time. I came into a street or
alley that was roofed--and I came out again, for it seemed to be closed
in at the upper end. By that time I realized that not only had I lost
Capt. Rask Holstrom, but that I had also succeeded in losing myself--a
rather silly predicament for a young man who so boldly offered himself
as knight errant to a damsel in distress.
I stood still and wiped sweat out of my eyes, and addressed a few
pregnant remarks to myself on the subject of a man’s making a fool of
himself for a woman. However, I had a mighty good reason of my own for
wanting to meet up with Captain Holstrom--and to safeguard that money of
his, for I hoped to rake some of it down in wages.