“But he said the Dead Rabbit was a drum for crooks!” protested Sheeny Joe, speaking to the redfaced man. “S'ppose he did,” retorted the other, “that don't take a dollar out of the drawer.” “An' he's to break my nose an' get away?” complained Sheeny Joe. “Well, you oughter to take care of your nose,” said the red-faced man, “an' not go leavin' it lyin' around where a kid can break it.” Sheeny Joe was not to be shaken off; he engaged in violent argument with the red-faced man. Their tones, however, were now more guarded, and no one might hear their words beyond themselves. While this went forward, the magistrate, to save his dignity, perhaps, and not to have it look as though he were waiting for orders, pretended to be writing in his book of cases which lay open on his desk. It was Sheeny Joe to bring the discussion between himself and the red-faced man to an end. Throughout the whispered differences between them, differences as to what should be my fate, Sheeny Joe showed hot with fury, while the red-faced man was cool and conciliatory; his voice when one caught some sound of it was coaxing. “There's been enough said!” cried Sheeny Joe, suddenly walking away from the red-faced man. “No duck is goin' to break my nose for fun.” “The boy's goin' loose,” observed the red-faced man in placid contradiction. “An' the girl goes to her friends, wherever they be, an' they aint at the Dead Rabbit.” Then in a blink the countenance of the redfaced man went from calm to rage. He whirled Sheeny Joe by the shoulder. “See here!” he growled, “one more roar out of you, an' I'll stand you up right now, an' it's you who will take sixty days, or my name aint Big John Kennedy. If you think that's a bluff, call it. Another yeep, an' the boat's waitin' for you! You've been due at the Island for some time.” “That's all right, Mr. Kennedy!” replied Sheeny Joe, his crest falling, and the sharpest terror in his face, “that's all right! You know me? Of course it goes as you say! Did you ever know me to buck ag'inst you?” The red-faced man smiled ferociously. The anger faded from his brow, and leaving Sheeny Joe without further word, he again spoke to the magistrate. “The charges ag'inst these two children, your honor, are withdrawn.” He spoke in his old cool tones. “Captain,” he continued, addressing that dignitary, “send one of your plain-clothes people with this girl to find her friends for her. Tell him he mustn't make any mistakes.” “The cases are dismissed,” said the magistrate, making an entry in his book. He appeared relieved with the change in the situation; almost as much, if that were possible, as myself. “The cases are dismissed; no costs to be taxed. I think that is what you desire, Mr. Kennedy?” “Yes, your honor.” Then coming over to where I sat, the red-faced man continued: “You hunt me up to-morrow--Big John Kennedy--that's my name. Any cop can tell you where to find me.” “Yes, sir,” I answered faintly.