"Saturday night, mind!" said M'Ginnis, loud and authoritative.
"But say, Bud," demanded the smartly dressed youth, "what's coming to us
on that last deal?"
"Nix--that's what you get, Soapy!" The youth's pale cheek grew livid.
"So you've got the deck stacked against us, eh, Bud?" said he.
"I got a close mouth, Soapy, I guess you don't want me t' open it very
wide--now or any other old time. Saturday night, mind!" and nodding,
M'Ginnis turned away. The youth looked after him with venomous eyes,
and his right hand made a sinister movement toward his hip pocket.
"Aw--quit it; are ye crazy?" grunted his companion. "Bud's got us
cinched."
"Got us--hell!" snarled the youth. "Bud's askin' for it, an' some day
he's goin' t' get it--good!"
Toward afternoon, Ravenslee was trundling light-heartedly eastward,
his barrow emptied to the last peanut. Having reached Fifth Avenue,
he paused to mop his perspiring brow when a long, low automobile,
powerfully engined, that was creeping along behind, pulled up with a
sudden jerk, and its driver, whose immense shoulders were clad in a very
smart livery, pushed up the peak of his smart cap to run his fingers
through his close-cropped hair, while his mild blue eyes grew very wide
and round.
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