" cried Spike. "Oh, my God--no!"

"What's she meetin' this millionaire in a wood for--on the sly?"

"She don't! Hermy ain't like that."

"I tell ye she does!" cried M'Ginnis, "an' him kissin' an' squeezin' her
an'--nobody by--"

"It's a lie, Bud--she--she wouldn't!"

"S'posin' I could show ye? S'pose you see him there--waitin' for her--"

"If--if he means any harm t' Hermy, I--I'll kill him!"

"Aw--you wouldn't have the nerve, Kid!"

"I'd shoot him dead--by God, I would!"

"You ain't man enough, Kid."

"You g-give me a gun an' see. I'd shoot any one t' save my sister
from--th' river. Oh, my God--I--I'd die for her, an' she don't love me
no more!" And leaning his head upon his arms, Spike burst into a passion
of tears. M'Ginnis watched him awhile, then, filling the boy's glass,
clapped him on the shoulder and held it to his lips.

"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.