"Ah--a comedy performance," he said with affected carelessness. But I could see that he cursed himself for a fool for being drawn into the affair. "Draw your revolver, but don’t fire more than one shot," I said. Big Sam gave a shout, and in an instant the place was filled with a medley of voices raised in tones of anger and alarm. A table was overturned, boxes were flung about, cries of men rose, a dozen revolver shots followed in quick succession, a woman’s scream pierced the air, and there was an excellent imitation of a highbinder affray on a small scale. I fired one shot into the breast of a mandarin, whose painted outlines ornamented a chest, and providently reserved the rest of my bullets for possible need. Then two of the Chinese lifted a heavy box and flung it at the closed doors. There was a crash of wood, a jingle of breaking glass, and the door fell outward. "Well, I should judge it was time to go," said Mr. Baldwin. "Come on," I said, seizing the Chinese girl. And we started on the run for the hack as the lights were extinguished. We had just reached it when two or three more shots were fired and a bullet sang uncomfortably close to my head. "In there, quick!" I said to Mr. Baldwin, as I lifted the girl to her seat "This place is getting too hot for us." "Aren’t you coming in?" he asked, with a trace of anxiety in his tone. "No. I’ll ride with the driver." I slammed the door and was climbing to the box when two breathless Chinese ran to the side of the hack and wrenched open the door with angry exclamations. There was a howl as one of them staggered back from a blow from Mr. Baldwin’s revolver. I gave the other a kick alongside the head that sent him in a heap on his fellow. It was all done in a second. "Now!" I said to the driver; and with a cut at his horses we dashed away as cries and shouts and sounds of police whistles began to rise behind us. As we lurched around the corner of Sacramento Street, I could see three policemen turning into Waverly Place from Clay Street and hurrying to the scene of disturbance. A crowd of shouting Chinese had already gathered about the entrance to Big Sam’s store, and a man was waving his arm and pointing after us, while half a dozen Chinese had started on the run in pursuit. Then, the corner turned, the sight was shut out, and we went down the street on the flying gallop. We slackened speed as we neared Kearny Street, for a policeman stood on the corner. If the sounds of battle had reached him he must certainly have suspected and stopped us. But if he heard anything of the uproar we had raised he had doubtless placed it to the credit of the leather-lunged orator and his clamorous hearers who held forth but a block away. He scarce looked at us, and we swung into Kearny Street on a swift trot, and were soon in the quiet precincts of the shopping district. The hackman had been silent, heeding only my directions; but now he said: