"Well, what of it?" said Dick. "He won't hurt you."
"Oh, but you don't understand. I ran away from him. He is drunk and
threatened me."
Dick's form straightened and his face grew hard and cold. "Ran away
from him. Do you mean that that fellow insulted you, Miss Goodrich?"
"I--I--was with him--and--he frightened me--" gasped Amy. "Let's go
the other way."
But they were too late. Amy's former escort had seen them, and with
uncertain steps approached. "Oh, here you are," he said. "Thought I'd
find you, my beauty."
Dick whispered to Amy in a tone she dared not disobey. "Stand right
where you are. Don't move. And you might watch that star over there.
Isn't it a beautiful one?" He deftly turned her so that she faced away
from the drunkard. Then with three long steps, he placed himself in
the way of the half-crazed man.
"Who are you?" asked the fellow, with an oath.
"None of your business," replied Dick, curtly. "I'm that girl's friend.
Go to the other side of the street."
"Ho, I know you now," cried the other. "You're that bum printer of
Udell's. Get out of my way. That girl's a lady and I'm a gentleman.
She don't go with tramps. I'll see her home myself."
Dick spoke again. "You may be a gentleman, but you are in no condition
to see anybody home. I'll tell you just once more; cross to the other
side of the street."
The fellow's only answer was another string of vile oaths, which however
was never finished.
In spite of herself, Amy turned just in time to see a revolver glisten
in the light of the electric lamp; then the owner of the revolver
rolled senseless in the gutter.
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