Somebody deep in the crowd cursed in a foreign tongue, screaming his words against the thud of a pistol shot. Came a babel of oaths, two more pistol shots, and pandemonium broke loose. Men surged toward the disturbance, and Streak caught sight of upraised bottles as the wave of men crushed tables and chairs, trampling drunken men to the floor, yelling like animals. Suddenly they seemed to split into two factions, fighting each other. Streak knew what this meant. This drunken horde was bent on destroying everything in the Eureka. Streak backed in against the end of the bar, gun in hand. He lost sight of Jim Flack. Out of the packed mob, like a football player packing the ball, came a huge, bearded giant, carrying a man in his arms. It was one of Mack Shell’s men. He dropped the unconscious cowboy and drew back a foot to kick him in the head when a shot crashed out, and the kick was not delivered. The big man went down, and the crowd trampled over him. Mack Shell was there, smoking gun in hand, dragging his cowboy away. Streak tried to help him, but a man crashed into him, and he went spinning against the wall at the end of the bar. Streak went to his knees but came up quickly. Bottles were whizzing across the room, smashing the lamps, and the smoke-chopped room became a blurred mass of fighting men. Windows were smashed, letting in the wind and storm, and while men battled in the Eureka, nature battled outside, the claps of thunder shaking the building. Streak fought his way across the room, forcing his way by swinging his six-shooter over-hand, climbing over men, trying to reach the smashed roulette layout. It was like a nightmare, where everything went wrong. Men screamed curses in his face, but he drove them aside and kept on going, while that crazy mob destroyed everything in the place. He found Clare Ames, pinned under the wreckage of the wheel, unable to escape or protect herself. She was too dazed to know what was going on, when Streak picked her up in his arms. She tried weakly to strike him, but her strength was gone. A man crashed into him and tried to take her away, but he shouldered the man back into the mob. Streak clawed his way along the wall to a broken window where he shoved her through. Then he crawled after her into the downpour. From inside the saloon came a warning scream, and he looked back. The smashed lamps had started a fire. Someone threw a smashed keg of whisky into the flames and a moment later the place was an inferno. V Finally, Streak reached the office with the girl. He didn’t dare to light a lamp but the blazing saloon gave plenty illumination. Clare Ames was recovered now. She wiped some blood off her face and looked closely at Streak. She said, “What is your name?” “I’m Streak Malone,” he replied. “You are Keith Delmar,” she said. “No man could look as much like Jim Delmar and not be his brother.”