In the midst of this tumult, Menotah rose and quickly slipped to the closed door. Dave immediately wheeled round and lurched after her. She struggled with the handle, which she could not understand. He caught her by the arm just as the door came open. She clenched her teeth, then, as a spark of the old fire shot into her lustrous eyes, she struck him with all her strength full in the face with her free hand. Half dazed, he dropped to the floor, while she disappeared—out into the hot, clear night, beneath the kind gleam of the stars she knew and loved.
The quarrel ended. Dave was raised by jocular arms, swearing fearfully. He announced his intention of going at once after the girl and smashing every bone in her body. McAuliffe offered to join him, so the two tumbled heavily down the narrow stairway. The Captain and Sinclair lurched off in an opposite direction.
The former couple forgot all about Menotah, even before reaching the outer air. They stumbled along cheerily for a short distance, only intent upon their own happiness.
'Say, Alf, where are we anyhow?' asked Dave, thickly.
'We're all right, Dave. Straighten up, now; this is New York City,' came the confident reply.
'Don't say. Well, well, sort of thought I was in Fort Garry to-day. Couldn't have been, Alf, eh?'
'Course not. Ever been in New York before, Davey?'
'First visit, Alf. Fine place, ain't it?'
'Bet your life. First-class saloons, I'm told. We'll sample 'em, eh?'
Dave sniggered. 'I reckon.'