"Bud's wise t' all
their tricks--ain't you, Bud?"
"But whatcher mean?" cried Spike. "What ye mean about expectin' it?"
"Well, she don't want ye no more, does she?" answered M'Ginnis, his
bruised hands fierce clenched, his voice hoarse and thick with passion.
"She's got some one else now--ain't she? She's--in love--ain't she?
She's all waked up an' palpitatin' for--for that dam'--" he choked, and
set one hand to his scratched throat.
"What d'ye mean, Bud?"
"Ah!" said Soapy, softer than before, "I'm on, Bud; you put me wise! He
means, Kid, as Hermy's in love with th' guy as has just been punchin'
hell out of him--he means your pal Geoff." With a hoarse, strangling
cry, M'Ginnis leapt up, his hand flashed behind him, and--he stood
suddenly very still, staring into the muzzle of the weapon Soapy had
levelled from his hip.
"Aw, quit it, Bud, quit it," he sighed, "it ain't come t' that--yet.
Besides, the Kid's here, so loose ye gun, Bud. No, give it t'me; you're
a bit on edge t'night, I guess, an' it might go off an' break a glass or
somethin'.
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