Then he glanced up at the ring
of peering faces and down upon his rent and dusty person, and fell to a
sudden, fierce torrent of curses; cursing thus, his strength seemed to
return all at once, for he sprang to his feet and with clenched fists
drove through the crowd, and lifting a flap in the bar, opened a door
beyond and was gone.
"No," said Soapy, shaking his head, "I guess Bud ain't dead--yet,
fellers. I wonder who gave him that eye, Kid? An' his mouth too! Did ye
pipe them split lips! Kind o' painful, I guess. An' a couple o' teeth
knocked out too! Some punchin', Kid! An' Bud kind o' fancied them nice,
white teeth of his a whole heap!"
Here the bartender glanced toward the corner where they stood, and,
lifting an eyebrow, jerked his thumb at the door behind him with the
words: "Kid, I reckon Bud wants ye."
For a moment Spike hesitated then, lifting the mahogany flap, crossed
the bar, and opened the door.
"Guess I'll come along, Kid," and, hands in pockets, Soapy followed.
They found M'Ginnis sprawling at a table and scowling at the knuckles of
his bruised right hand while at his elbow were a bottle and two glasses.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384