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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

Here he waited, calm-eyed and chewing placidly, one arm about
the fretful Spike.
Presently Ravenslee joined them; the shabby hat was gone, and there was
a smear of blood upon his cheek, also he laboured in his breathing, but
his eyes were joyous.
"Bo, what about Bud?"
"Oh, he's lying around somewhere."
"Hully Chee--d' ye mean--"
"He tried gouging first, but I expected that; then he tried to throttle
me, but I throttled a little harder. He's an ugly customer, as you said,
but"--Ravenslee laughed and glanced at his bloody knuckles--"I don't
think he'll be keen to rough it with me again just yet."
"Bo, I guess you can be pretty ugly too--say, when you laugh that way I
feel--kind of sorry for Bud."
"Why, what's wrong with Spike?"
"Dunno--I guess they've been slinging dope into him. And he's copped it
pretty bad from Young Alf too--look at that eye!"
"Spike!" said Ravenslee, shaking him, "Spike, what is it? Buck up, old
fellow!" But Spike only stared dazedly and moaned.
"It's dope all right," nodded the Spider, "or else Bud's mixed th'
drinks on him.


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