"
"Pshaw, Kid--what's a kid like you want with a gun?"
"T'shoot him--"
"Eh? What? D'ye mean--?"
"If he's after my sister, I'll--kill him! I will, by God, I will!"
"'S right," nodded Soapy, staring into the boy's drawn face, "'s right,
Bud; if ever I see a killer--th' Kid's sure it!"
Slowly the glare died out of Spike's eyes, his body drooped, and
sighing, he pillowed his heavy head upon the table and fell into a
drunken slumber. For a while the two men sat there hearkening to his
stertorous breathing, then Soapy laughed soft and mirthlessly. "You sure
got th' Kid all worked up an' mad enough t'--kill, eh, Bud? If he does
get up against this guy Geoff--this guy Geoff's sure goin' t' cash
in--sudden. Consequently, I guess you'll be wantin' paper an'
pencil--both here!"
"What th' hell--" began M'Ginnis.
"Telegram, Bud. You're goin' t' frame up a nice little telegram t' this
guy Geoff--oh, you sure are th' fly gazebo! A nice little message--'meet
me t'morrow in the wood at sunset--Hermy?' Somethin' nice 'n' romantic
like that'll bring him on th' run--eh, Bud? Then, 'stead of Hermy, comes
you an' th' Kid, eh, Bud? An' 'stead of kisses, this guy Geoff gets a
lead pill--eh, Bud? Th' Kid can't miss if you get him close enough.
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