"AYE!" yelled the diners, whereupon a stampede ensued that caused
the waiters in the main dining-room below to cease piling chairs
upon the tables and hastily weight their napkins with salt-
cellars.

But the crowd was not combative. They poured out upon the street
in the best possible humor, and even at the House of Seven
Turnings, as Higgins had dubbed the "hide-away" on Thirty-second
Street, they made no disturbance. On the contrary, it was
altogether too quiet for most of them, and they soon sought
another scene. But there were deserters en route to the Palace of
Ebony, and when in turn the joys of a full negro orchestra had
palled and a course was set for the Austrian Village, the number
of investigators had dwindled to a choice half-dozen.

These, however, were kindred spirits, veterans of many a midnight
escapade, composing a flying squadron of exactly the right
proportions for the utmost efficiency and mobility combined.

The hour was now past a respectable bedtime and the Tenderloin had
awakened. The roar of commerce had dwindled away, and the
comparative silence was broken only by the clang of an infrequent
trolley. The streets were empty of vehicles, except for a few cabs
that followed the little group persistently. As yet there was no
need of them. The crowd was made up, for the most part, of
healthy, full-blooded boys, fresh from weeks of training, strong
of body, and with stomachs like galvanized iron. They showed scant
evidence of intoxication. As for the weakest member of the party,
it had long been known that one drink made Higgins drunk, and all