The men had been taken by surprise, but they put out after her as fast as they could, laughing. This was sport; and although laughter is not recommended for runners, they managed to gain a little at first. After that first burst, they ceased to gain, but they held their own, and the chase sped merrily along River Street, a scant five yards separating the hunters from their quarry. Sally reached her corner and turned off of River Street, passing under the light of a street lamp as she made the turn. Coming down that street was a man. Sally did not see very well, for he was not in the full light and, besides, her eyes were full of tears because of her running. But the man gave a start and an exclamation and he began to run and he ran into those men like a locomotive, and he swung at one of them and hit him and knocked him into the middle of the street, so that he landed on the back of his neck in the roadway and lay limp and still. The other would have run away, but the man caught him around the neck with his left hand and cast him as far as his fellow, rolling over and over. "Damn you!" he cried low. "No, you don't. Damn you!" Doubtless he was forgiven that cry, even as Sally forgave it. She had stopped and was leaning against a fence. When she saw the men go into the street, one after the other, she gave a quick chuckle of delight. She may have been a little hysterical. It would not have been strange. The second man who had been so summarily cast into the road was rising slowly, muttering and half sobbing. The first man continued to lie limp and still, and the man who had cast him there advanced slowly toward him; upon which that other ceased beating the dust from his clothes and edged away, muttering more loudly threats and vituperations. The man continued to advance, but he raised his head into the full light from the street lamp and he laughed shortly. "You'd better be off," he said. "Get out, and hurry about it." Sally saw his face well enough in the dim light and she knew the voice. She had not really needed to recognize either, for she knew well enough, in her heart, who it was that had come to her aid in the nick of time. She chuckled again with delight, then drew a shivering breath and gave a sob. There was no doubt about it, Sally was hysterical. She knew that she was and she stifled the sob in her throat. She despised hysterics. And she laughed a little because she couldn't help it, and she went to him. He was kneeling in the road and he had the man's head upon one knee and was feeling him gently. He raised his head as she came near. "I can't tell whether I have hurt him or not. It's awkward. We can't leave him lying here in the street, although he deserves no better treatment. I wish I had a horse here. You don't happen to know of one, do you, Sally?" "N--no," she answered slowly, "not near here. I suppose I could get Sawny, if you would wait." Fox laughed. "I don't want to ask Everett for Sawny."