The Definite Object: A Romance of New YorkFarnol, Jeffery
General
The Definite Object: A Romance of New York
Farnol, Jeffery
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
"Good evening!" said he, but this time kept his hands in his pockets.
The Spider eyed him somewhat askance, shifted his wad of chewing gum
from one cheek to the other, and spoke.
"'Lo!" said he.
"Do you know where Spike is?"
"S'pose I do--then what?" demanded the Spider with a truculent lurch of
his wide shoulders.
"Then I shall ask you to tell me where I can find him--or better still,
you might show me."
"Oh, might I?"
"You might!"
The feelings of the Spider waxing beyond mere words, he looked at the
speaker, viewed him up and down with a glance of contemptuous hostility,
whereat Ravenslee's whole expression melted into one of lamblike
meekness.
"Say," quoth the Spider at last, "there's only one thing as I can't
stand about you, an' that's--everything!"
"Sorry for that," murmured Ravenslee, "because I rather like you,
Spider. I think you could be quite a decent fellow if you tried very
hard! Come, shake your grouch and let's be friends."
"Say," growled the Spider, "what you're sufferin' from's a hard neck!
You ain't no friend o' mine--not much you ain't, savvy? So crank up an'
get on yer way like a good little feller!"
"But you see I'm anxious to find Spike because--"
"Well, say, you keep on bein' anxious, only do it somewheres else. I
don't want youse around where I am, see? So beat it while d' goin's
good!"
"Why--er--no," said Ravenslee in his laziest tones, "no, I don't think
I'll beat it. I guess I'll stay right here and wait until you are so
kind, so--er--very kind and obliging as to show me where I can find
Spike." And he sighed plaintively as he lounged against the wall behind,
but his eyes were surprisingly bright and quick beneath the shadow of
the battered hat.
"Hully Chee!" exclaimed the Spider, expectorating contemptuously, "hark
to the flossy-boy, fellers! Aw, run away, now!" said he, scowling
suddenly, "run away before ye get slapped on th' wrist!" and, while
divers of his companions laughed hoarsely, he turned a contemptuous back
on Mr. Ravenslee. But even then he was seized in iron fingers that
clutched his shoulder and, in that painful grip, was jerked suddenly
around again to behold a face vicious-eyed, thin-lipped, square-jawed,
fiercely outthrust. Recognising the "fighting-face", the Spider, being
a fighter of a large and varied experience, immediately "covered up",
and fell into that famous crouch of his that had proved the undoing of
so many doughty fighters ere now. Then, like a flash, his long arm shot
out, but in that same instant, Ravenslee, timing the blow to a fraction,
moved slightly, and the Spider's knuckles bruised themselves against the
wall at the precise moment that Ravenslee's open hand flipped lightly on
the side of the Spider's square, lean jaw.
The Spider drew back, staring from Ravenslee's tall, alert figure to his
bruised knuckles and back again, while his companions stood by in mute
and wide-eyed wonder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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