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"Oh, I'm handin' ye the straight goods, Kid," M'Ginnis went on. "I'm
puttin' ye wise because you're my pal, an' because I've known Hermy an'
been kind o' soft about her since we was kids."
"Well, then, you know she--she ain't that sort," said Spike, his voice
quavering oddly. "So--don't you--say no more--see?"
"All right, Kid, all right--only I don't like t' see this pal o' yours
gettin' in his dirty work behind your back. If anything happens--don't
blame me--"
"What--what you tryin' t' tell me--you Bud?" questioned Spike, between
quivering lips.
"I'm tellin' ye things are gettin' too warm--oh, Hermy ain't the icicle
she tries t' make out she is."
"An' I'm tellin' you--you're a liar, Bud M'Ginnis--a dirty liar!" cried
the boy.
M'Ginnis's bull neck swelled; between his thick, black brows a vein
swelled and pulsed. Viewing this, Soapy's glittering eyes blinked, and
the pendulous cigarette quivered faintly again.
"Now by--" began M'Ginnis, lifting menacing fist; then his arm sank, and
he shook his big, handsome head.


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