and were perfectly aware of their presence
behind the sand-break. Moran rose to her feet, and Wilbur and Charlie
followed her example.

"There's no use hiding," she said; "they know we're here."

Charlie called up the crew. The two parties were ranged face to face.
Over the eastern rim of the Pacific the blue whiteness of the early
dawn was turning to a dull, roseate gold at the core of the sunrise. The
headlands of Magdalena Bay stood black against the pale glow; overhead,
the greater stars still shone. The monotonous, faint ripple of the creek
was the only sound. It was about 3:30 o'clock.

X. A BATTLE

Wilbur had imagined that the fight would be hardly more than a wild rush
down the slope of the beach, a dash over the beach-combers' breastworks
of sand, and a brief hand-to-hand scrimmage around the old cabin. In
all accounts he had ever read of such affairs, and in all ideas he
had entertained on the subject, this had always been the case. The two
bodies had shocked together like a college rush, there had been five
minutes' play of knife and club and gun, a confused whirl of dust
and smoke, and all was over before one had time either to think or be
afraid. But nothing of the kind happened that morning.

The "Bertha Millner's" crew, in a long line, Moran at one end, Wilbur at
the other, and Charlie in the centre, came on toward the beach-combers,
step by step. There was little outcry. Each contestant singled out
his enemy, and made slowly for him with eyes fixed and weapon ready,
regardless of the movements of his mates.

"See any rifles among them, Charlie?" shouted Moran, suddenly breaking
the silence.

"No, I tink no hab got," answered Charlie.

Wilbur took another step forward and cocked his revolver. One of the
beach-combers shouted out something in angry vernacular, and Charlie
instantly responded. All this time the line had been slowly advancing
upon the enemy, and Wilbur began to wonder how long that heartbreaking
suspense was to continue. This was not at all what he had imagined.
Already he was within twenty feet of his man, could see the evil glint
of his slant, small eye, and the shine of his yellow body, naked to the
belt. Still foot by foot the forward movement continued. The Chinese
on either side had begun exchanging insults; the still, hot air of the
tropic dawn was vibrant with the Cantonese monosyllables tossed back
and forth like tennis-balls over the low sand rampart. The thing wa