"'S right, Kid, 's right, Bud's an angel sure, though he ain't got no wings yet. Oh, Bud'll comfort ye--frequent, an' by an' by he'll take ye back t' Hermy good an' soused; you can get your own back that ways--eh, Kid? It'll sure make her sit up an' take notice when she sees ye come in reelin' an' staggerin'--eh, Kid? An' to-morrow you'll be sick mebbe, an' she'll have ter nurse ye--oh, Bud'll fix things fer ye, I guess." Spike glowered and pushed his half-emptied glass further away. "I ain't goin' home soused!" he muttered. "No?" said Soapy, faintly surprised. "Bud'll feel kind o' hurt, won't he?" "I ain't goin' home soused--not for Bud nor nobody else!" "Why, then, if I was you, Kid, I should beat it before Bud comes in." "I guess I will," said Spike, rising. But now was sudden uproar of voices in the street hard by, a running and trampling of feet, and, the swing doors opening, a group of men appeared, bearing among them a heavy burden; and coming to the quiet corner they laid M'Ginnis there. Battered, bloody, and torn he lay, his handsome features swollen and disfigured, his clothes dusty and dishevelled, while above him and around him men stooped and peered and whispered. "Why, it's--it's--Bud!" stammered Spike, shrinking away from that inanimate form, "my God! It's--Bud!" "'S right, Kid!" nodded Soapy imperturbably, hands in pockets and, though his voice sounded listless as ever, his eyes gleamed evilly, and the dangling cigarette quivered and stirred. "Ain't--dead, is he?" some one questioned. "Dead--not much!" answered Soapy, "guess it's goin' to take more 'n that t' make Bud a stiff 'un. Besides, Bud ain't goin' t' die that way, no, not--that way, I reckon. Dead? Watch this!" So saying, he reached Spike's half-emptied glass from the bar and, not troubling to stoop, poured the raw spirit down upon M'Ginnis's pale, blood-smirched face. "Dead?" said Soapy. "Well, I guess not--look at him!" And, sure enough, M'Ginnis stirred, groaned, opened swollen eyelids and, aided by some ready arm, sat up feebly. Then he glanced up at the ring of peering faces and down upon his rent and dusty person, and fell to a sudden, fierce torrent of curses; cursing thus, his strength seemed to return all at once, for he sprang to his feet and with clenched fists drove through the crowd, and lifting a flap in the bar, opened a door beyond and was gone. "No," said Soapy, shaking his head, "I guess Bud ain't dead--yet, fellers. I wonder who gave him that eye, Kid? An' his mouth too! Did ye pipe them split lips! Kind o' painful, I guess. An' a couple o' teeth knocked out too! Some punchin', Kid! An' Bud kind o' fancied them nice, white teeth of his a whole heap!" Here the bartender glanced toward the corner where they stood, and, lifting an eyebrow, jerked his thumb at the door behind him with the words: "Kid, I reckon Bud wants ye." For a moment Spike hesitated then, lifting the mahogany flap, crossed the bar, and opened the door.