"Neck this, Kid," said he, "neck it all--so, that's good, ain't it? To-morrow evenin' I'll take ye where they meet; maybe you'll ketch him waitin' for her--but instead of Hermy an' kisses there'll be you an' me, hey? Will ye come?" "S-sure I will if--you'll gimme--your gun." "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. It sure is some scheme, Bud; I couldn't have thought it out better myself. Paper 'n' pencil, Bud--get busy an' I'll sashay over an' send it off for ye--t'night." During Soapy's unusually long speech, M'Ginnis sat staring at him under frowning brows, but now he turned and scowled down at the sheet of paper, picked up the pencil, laid it by again and sat opening and shutting his big hands, while Soapy, lighting another cigarette, watched him furtively. When at last he spoke, his voice was thick, and he didn't lift his scowling gaze. "Send that kid Larry t' me, an' say--you don't have t' come back." "All right, Bud, all right--only you'd best send two telegrams t' make sure--one t' Fift' Av, an' one t' his place up th' river. S' long, Buddy!" Some fifteen minutes later, the boy Larry, stepping out of O'Rourke's, was swung to the wall in Soapy's grip. "Aw--say, cheese it now! Is that you, Soapy?" "'S right, my bucko. Fork out that telegram--quick!" "Aw, say, what yer mean--'n' say, Bud told me to hustle, 'n' say--" "Dig it out--quick!" said Soapy, the dangling cigarette glowing fiercely. "I want it--see?" "But say--" whimpered Larry, "what'll Bud say--" "Nothin'! Bud ain't goin' t' know. You take this instead--take it!" And Soapy thrust another folded paper into the boy's limp hand, who took it whimpering. "Bud tol' me t' bring it back." "Well, you tell him you lost it." "Not much--I'll skin right back an' tell him you pinched it."