he remonstrated gently, when M'Ginnis's torrent of
frenzied threats and curses had died down somewhat. "If you go on that
way, you'll go off--in a fit or something an' I shouldn't like t' see
ye die--that way!"

"Up the river, is he?" panted M'Ginnis.

"'S right, Bud, up the river in his big house--with her. I--"

"Is he, by--"

"A dandy place f' honeymoonin', Bud!"

"Loan me your gun, Soapy. I'll get him, by God! if I have t' shoot him
in her arms--loan me y'r gun!"

"I guess not, Bud, no, I guess not. I'd feel kind o' lonesome without
th' feel of it. Ask Heine; he'll loan you his; it's gettin' t' be quite
a habit with him, ain't it, Heine?"

M'Ginnis sat awhile glaring down at his clutching right hand, then he
rose, opened his desk, and took thence a heavy revolver, and slipped it
inside his coat.

"You're comin' with me, Heine," said he, "I'll want you."

"Sure thing, Bud," nodded Heine, chewing his cigar. "But what about
lettin' Soapy tag along too."

"Soapy," said M'Ginnis, striding to the door, "Soapy can go t' hell
right now."

"Why then, Bud," drawled Soapy, "I'll sure meet you--later. S'long."

Left alone, Soapy's languor gave place to swift action. In two strides,
it seemed, he was in the saloon, had beckoned the quick-eyed bartender
aside and put the question: "Where's the Kid, Jake?"

The bartender lifted an eyebrow and jerked a thumb upward.

"Shut-eye," he nodded, and turned back to his multifarious duties.

Up a narrow stair sped Soapy and, opening one of the numerous doors,
crossed to a truckle bed wherefrom a tousled head upreared itself.

"Who th'--"

"Say, Kid, are ye drunk or only asleep?"

"What yer want, Soapy? You lemme be--what yer want?" began Spike
drowsily.

"Nothin' much, Kid, only Bud an' Heine's gone t' shoot up y'r sister's
husband."

"Husband!" cried Spike, drowsy no longer. "Husband--say, d' ye mean
Geoff?"

"That's who, Kid. You was crackin' on t' me about wantin' t' make good;
well, here's y'r chance. Bud aims t' get there 'bout midnight--up th'
river, you know--so you got two hours. You'll have t' go some t' get in
first, but I guess you can do it."

"I will if it kills me!" cried Spike, springing toward the door.

"Hold on, Kid, you'll need some mazuma, maybe. Here's a ten-spot. It'll
be more useful t' you than me after t'night, I reckon. So get your
hooks on to it, an' now--beat it!"

Without more words Spike snatched the money, crammed it into his po