"Bo," said he at last, "I'm thinkin' th' kindest thing I could do would be t' slip one over t' your point while you wasn't lookin', an' puttin' you t' sleep a bit--you want soothin'! Bud'll be too big fer you or any other guy t' tackle now; ye see, his stock's rose--th' Noo Jersey p'lice wasn't strong enough t' hold him--" "That's where I'm different--I can!" said Ravenslee, opening and shutting his right hand convulsively. "Yes, I'll hold him till his last kick--and after!" "My God!" exclaimed the Spider softly, and, beholding that clutching right hand, he edged away. "Where you goin' t' look fer him?" he enquired after a while. "O'Rourke's!" "Why not try Raynor's first?" and he nodded to a saloon on the adjacent corner. "Because I'm not a fool." "Bo, I ain't s' sure o' that! O'Rourke's'll be full o' tough guys t'night; all th' bunch'll be there, an' if Bud tips 'em th' say-so, they'll snuff your light out quicker 'n winkin'." "That wouldn't be such a hardship." "Oh, so that's it, hey? You got a kiss-me-an'-let-me-die sort o' feelin', hey? Some nice bit o' stuff been turnin' ye down, bo?" "That'll be about enough!" said Ravenslee, quick and fierce; and, meeting the flash of his eye, the Spider edged away again. "Sufferin' Mike!" said he, "you sure ain't doin' the affable chat stunt t'night!" But Ravenslee strode along in silence, and the Spider, heeding the pale, set ferocity of his expression, grew troubled. "Say," said he at last, "this don't happen t' be th' night as you've fixed up t' smash th' gang, does it?" "No--only M'Ginnis." "S'posin' he ain't at O'Rourke's?" "He'll be somewhere else." "Bo, if I was your ma, I should be prayin' you don't find Bud, yes, sir! An' I should pray--dam' hard!" By this time they had reached Eleventh Avenue and were close upon the saloon when Ravenslee halted suddenly, for, beneath a lamp on the opposite sidewalk, he saw M'Ginnis in talk with two other men. Drawing the neckerchief from his pocket, Ravenslee crossed over and tapped M'Ginnis on the arm, who, turning about, stared into a pallid face within a foot of his own. "What th' hell--" he began, but Ravenslee cut him short. "You left this behind you," said he, thrusting forward the neckerchief, "so I've brought it to twist around that foul throat of yours. Now, M'Ginnis--fight!" Thrusting the neckerchief into his pocket, Ravenslee clenched his fists, and, saying no more, they closed and fought--not as men, but rather as brute beasts eager to maim and rend.