The Definite Object Part 49

"Bo, what about Bud?"

"Oh, he's lying around somewhere."

"Hully Chee--d' ye mean--"

"He tried gouging first, but I expected that; then he tried to throttle me, but I throttled a little harder. He's an ugly customer, as you said, but"--Ravenslee laughed and glanced at his b.l.o.o.d.y knuckles--"I don't think he'll be keen to rough it with me again just yet."

"Bo, I guess you can be pretty ugly too--say, when you laugh that way I feel--kind of sorry for Bud."

"Why, what's wrong with Spike?"

"Dunno--I guess they've been slinging dope into him. And he's copped it pretty bad from Young Alf too--look at that eye!"

"Spike!" said Ravenslee, shaking him, "Spike, what is it? Buck up, old fellow!" But Spike only stared dazedly and moaned.

"It's dope all right," nodded the Spider, "or else Bud's mixed th'

drinks on him."

"d.a.m.n him!" said Ravenslee softly. "I wish I'd throttled a little harder!"

"I guess you give Bud all he needs for the present," said Spider grimly, "anyway, I'm goin' t' see. The Kid ain't hurt none. Get him home t' bed, an' he'll be all right s'long, long, Geoff."

"Good night, Spider, and--thank you. Oh, by the way, who's Heine?"

"Heine's a Deutscher, Geoff. Heine's about as clean as dirt an' as straight as a corkscrew; why, he'd shoot his own mother if y' paid him, like he did--but say, what d' you know about him, anyway?"

"Well, for one thing, I know he's been arrested in Jersey City--"

"Heine? Pinched? Say, bo, what yer givin' us--who says so?"

"Bud, and--"

But the Spider, waiting for no more, had turned about and was running back across the open lot.

CHAPTER XXI

HOW M'GINNIS THREATENED AND--WENT

"Mr. Geoffrey, prayer is a wonderful prop to a anxious 'eart!" said Mrs.

Trapes, leaning over the banisters to greet him as he ascended. "Mr.

Geoffrey, my hands has been lifted in prayer for ye this night as so did me behoove, and here you are safe back with--that b'y. A prayer prayed proper, and prayed by them as ain't plaguein' the Lord constant about their souls an' other diseases, is always dooly regarded. Yes, sir, a occasional pet.i.tion is always heard and worketh wonders as the--my land, Mr. Geoffrey, look at your face!"

"I know, Mrs. Trapes. Has she come in yet?"

"Not yet--an' glad I am. You're all bleedin'--stoop your head a bit--there!" and very tenderly she staunched the cut below the curly hair with an ap.r.o.n clean and spotless as usual. "And the b'y--lord, what's come to him?"

"A black eye--two, I'm afraid. Anyhow, I'll look after him and get him into bed before she comes; can you keep her away till I've done so?"

"I'll try. Poor lad!" she sighed, touching Spike's drooping head with bony fingers, "if she wasn't his sister, I'd be sorry for him!"

So Ravenslee took Spike in hand, bathing his bruised and battered features and setting ice water to his puffy lips, which the lad gulped thirstily. Thereafter he revived quickly but grew only the more morose and sulky.

"All right," he muttered, "I'll go t' bed, only--leave me, see!"

"Can't I help you?"

"No--you lemme alone. Oh, I know--you think I'm soused, but I ain't; I--I'm not drunk, I tell ye--I wish I was. I ain't no kid, so lemme alone--an' I ain't drunk. What if me legs is shaky? So 'ud yours be if you'd got--what I got. It was dat last swing t' d' jaw as done me--but I ain't drunk 'n' I ain't a kid t' be undressed--so chase ye'self an'

lemme alone!"

"All right, Spike--only get to bed like a good chap before your sister comes."

"You leave my sister alone; she ain't--that kind, an' she ain't fer you, anyway."

"That will do, Arthur--get into bed! I'll give you five minutes!" So saying, Ravenslee turned away, but, as he closed the door, his quick ear detected the clink of gla.s.s, and turning, he saw Spike draw a small flask from his pocket.

"Give me that stuff, old fellow."

"Oh, you can't con me! I ain't a kid, so you lemme alone!" and Spike raised the flask to his lips, but in that instant it was s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

Spike staggered back to the wall and leaned there, pa.s.sing his hand to and fro across his brow as though dazed, then stumbled out into the room beyond.

"Gimme it, Geoff, gimme it!" he panted, "you won't keep it, no, no--Bud slipped it to me after I come to. Gimme it, Geoff. I want t' forget--so be a sport an' give it me--you will, won't ye?"

Ravenslee shook his head, whereat the boy broke out more pa.s.sionately:

"Oh--don't ye see, Geoff--can't ye understand? I--I was knocked out t'night--I took th' count! I--I'm done for, I had me chance, an' I didn't make good! I--didn't--make good!" As he spoke, the lad hid his bruised face within his hands, while great sobs shook him.

"Why, Spike! Why, Arthur, old chap--never mind--"

"Gimme th' bottle, Geoff! Be a pal an' gimme th' stuff--I want t'

forget!"

"This wouldn't help you."

"Give it me, d' ye hear--I want it--I'll have it, anyway--I'll--"

Spike's voice failed, and cowering back, he sank into a chair at sight of her who stood within the doorway so very silent and pale of lip.

"Ah, don't, Hermy--don't look at me like that," he whispered. "Your eyes hurt me! I ain't drunk--this time!"

"Oh, boy!" she sighed, "oh, boy--after all your promises!"

Spike rose with hands stretched out appealingly, but even so, he swayed slightly, and seeing this, she s.h.i.+vered.

"Is it th' fightin' you mean, Hermy? Why, I did it all for you, Hermy, all for you--I wanted t' be a champion 'cause all champions are rich.

I wanted t' make you a real lady--t' take you away from Mulligan's--but now--I'm only--a 'has-been.' I've lost me chance--oh, Hermy, I'm done for; I--oh, Geoff, I--think I'll--go to bed."