She nodded.
"Did he beat?"
She laughed. "Butts had the start. They got there together at nine o'clock!"
"Three hours before jumpin' time?"
Again she nodded. "And found four more waitin' on the same fool errand."
"What did they do?"
"Called a meetin'. Couldn't agree. It looked like there'd be a fight, and a fast race to the Recorder among the survivors. But before the meetin' was adjourned, those four that had got there first (they were pretty gay a'ready), they opened some hootch, so Butts and Charlie knew they'd nothing to fear except from one another."
On the top of the divide that gave them their last glimpse of Rampart she stopped an instant and looked back. The quick flash of anxiety deepening to defiance made the others turn. The bit they could see of the water-front thoroughfare was alive. The inhabitants were rushing about like a swarm of agitated ants.
"What's happening?"
"It's got out," she exploded indignantly. "They're comin', too!"