"One of the men winked at got up from a table and approached the bar, followed by a larger man, with a face like a bull terrier. "'What yer say his name is--McGrath?' "All this time his eyes were sizing me up, scrutinizing my hat, my shirt-studs, watch-chain, overcoat, gloves, down to my shoes. The smaller man--'Shorty,' the barkeeper called him--now repeated the larger man's question. "'Did yer say his name's McGrath? What's he do?' "'He is a derrick-man.' "Shorty was now well under the light of the bar. He had a scar over one damaged eye and a flattened nose, the same blow having evidently wrecked both; over the other was pulled a black cloth cap; around his throat was a dirty red handkerchief, no collar showing--a capital make-up for a stage villain, I thought, as I looked him over, especially the handkerchief. Even Mac here would look like a burglar with his hair mussed, collar off, and a red handkerchief tied around his throat. "The barkeeper piped up again: 'Get a move on, Shorty, and help the gent find the Mick.' "'Shure! I know him. He's a-livin' under de rocks. Come 'long, Boss. I'll git him.' "Two more men stepped out of the gloom; one, in a cap and yellow overcoat, went behind the bar and slipped something into his pocket; then the two lounged out of the room and shut the door behind them. I began to take in the situation. The purpose of the wink was clear now. I was in a dive in a deserted street, unarmed and alone, and surrounded by cutthroats. If I tried to find McGrath with any one of these men as a guide I would be robbed and thrown over the cliff; if I attempted to go back I would land in the clutches of the man in the yellow overcoat and his companion. All this time the barkeeper was leaning over the bar, his eyes fixed on my face. My only hope lay in a bold front. "'All right,' I said to Shorty; 'how far is it?' "'Oh, not very fur--'bout t'ree blocks.' "I stepped out into the night. "Down the long street on the way to the river stood three men--the man in the yellow overcoat, his companion, and one other. They separated when they saw me, the one in the overcoat retracing his steps toward the dive without looking my way, the others sauntering on ahead. I walked on, meditating what to do next. I could throttle Shorty and take to my heels, but then I would have to reckon with the pickets who might be between me and the bar-room. "Sometimes, when in great danger, a sudden inspiration comes to a man; mine came out of a clear sky. "'Hold on,' I said to Shorty--we were now half a block from the dive. 'Wait a minute; I have nothing smaller than a ten-dollar bill, and I want to give you something for your trouble. I'll run back and get the barkeeper to change it. Stay where you are; I won't be a minute.'