"Bo," said the Spider, squaring his big jaw, "get onto this: here's where I chip in with ye; from now on we're in this game together, an' I ain't a guy as'll lay down his hand till I'm called--an' called good, see? You said it was goin' t' be a man's work--by Jiminy Christmas, it looks like you're right; anyway, I stand in with you, that's sure--put it there, bo!" "But," said Ravenslee, as their hands gripped, "I don't want you to take any chances on my account, or run any--" "Fudge, bo, fudge! I ain't takin' no chances--" "Well, I'm coming along to see you don't!" said Ravenslee, reaching for his hat. "Not on your life, bo; you'd queer th' whole show. Y' see, they're a tough crowd an' apt t' act a bit hasty now an' then; 'sides, they might think you're heeled, and they know I don't never carry a gun--they all know me--" "Still, I'm coming, Spider--" "Y' can't, bo; Mrs. Trapes ain't goin' t' let ye--look at her!" "You never spoke a truer word since you drawed the vital air, Spider Connolly!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, hands on hips and elbows at the "engage." "If Mr. Geoffrey stirs out this day, he's jest gotter trample over my mangled remains, that's all!" Heeding the glitter in her eye and noting the inexorable jut of her elbows, Ravenslee sat down and went on filling his pipe. "Y' see, bo, I know as it wasn't you as give Bud away, an' the boys'll listen t' my say-so--you bet they will. So here's where I ooze away. S' long, all!" The Old Un, having bolted the last handful of cake, got upon his legs and clutched the Spider's coat in talon-like fingers. "'Old 'ard, young feller, me lad!" he cried. "If there's any chance of a scrap comin' off--wot about me? Gimme me 'at, Joe, an' get yourn; if I don't knock some on 'em stone cold--call me a perishin' ass!" "Why, since you say so, old blood an' bones," said Joe, his mild eye brightening, "we will step along with the Spider a little way if the Guv'nor'll excuse us?" "Certainly, Joe," nodded Ravenslee, "on condition that you do just as the Spider says." "You mean, sir?" "No fighting, Joe--at least, not yet." "Trust me, sir! What ain't to be--yet, is to be sometime, I 'opes," sighed Joe. "Good-by, Guv, good-by!" croaked the Old Un, "if I don't put some o' they perishers in the 'orspitals an' the infirmaries--I ain't the man I was-- "'Oh, used am I to war's alarms I 'unger for the fray, Though beauty clasps me in 'er arms The trumpet calls away.'" So having made their adieux, the three took their departure; though once, despite Joe's objurgations, the Old Un must needs come back to kiss Mrs. Trapes's toil-worn hand with a flourish which left her voiceless and round of eye until the clatter of their feet had died away. Then she closed the door and fixed Ravenslee with her stoniest stare. "Mr. Geoffrey," she demanded, "why did they call you 'Guv'nor', and wherefore 'Sir'?"