"Well, I shall
certainly kill him--this time!"
"Is it th' Kid again?"
"No--oh, no, it's just for my own satisfaction--and pleasure."
"You ain't heeled, are ye? This ain't goin' t' be no gun-play--eh?"
"No, I haven't a gun, but I've brought his--neckerchief."
"Sufferin' Pete!" murmured the Spider in a strangely awed voice, and
walked on in silence, chewing viciously.
"Bo," said he at last, "I'm thinkin' th' kindest thing I could do would
be t' slip one over t' your point while you wasn't lookin', an' puttin'
you t' sleep a bit--you want soothin'! Bud'll be too big fer you or any
other guy t' tackle now; ye see, his stock's rose--th' Noo Jersey
p'lice wasn't strong enough t' hold him--"
"That's where I'm different--I can!" said Ravenslee, opening and
shutting his right hand convulsively. "Yes, I'll hold him till his last
kick--and after!"
"My God!" exclaimed the Spider softly, and, beholding that clutching
right hand, he edged away.
"Where you goin' t' look fer him?" he enquired after a while.
"O'Rourke's!"
"Why not try Raynor's first?" and he nodded to a saloon on the adjacent
corner.
Pages:
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372