“What’s doin’, Geoff?” he enquired.

“I’m off to O’Rourke’s—­coming?”

“Not much!  An’ say, ‘t ain’t worth your trouble—­I ain’t fightin’.  Nawthin’ but a lot o’ fifth-raters.”

“I’m going over to fetch Spike.”

“How much?” exclaimed the Spider, his square jaws immobile from sheer astonishment.  “Say, you ain’t crazy, are ye—­I mean you ain’t dippy or cracked in the dome, are ye?  Because d’ Kid’s goin’ ten rounds with Young Alf, d’ East Side Wonder, t’night, see?”

“Not if I can help it, Spider.”

“Aw—­come off, bo!  D’ye think Bud’ll let him go?”

“I shan’t ask Bud—­or any one else.”

“Meanin’ as you’ll walk right in on Bud’s tough bunch an’ cop out d’ Kid on y’r lonesome—­eh?”

“I shall try.”

“Then you sure are crazy; if y’r dome ain’t cracked yet, it’s sure goin’ t’ be.  Why, Bud ‘n’ his crowd’ll soak you good ‘n’ plenty ‘n’ chuck ye out again quicker’n ye went in.  They will sure, bo—­if you go—­”

“I’m wondering if you’ll come along and help?” said Ravenslee lazily.

“Me?  Not so’s you could notice it.  I ain’t huntin’ that sort o’ trouble.”

“Oh, well, if you think you’d—­er—­better not, I’ll go alone.”

“What, yer goin’, are ye?”

“Of course!  You see, Spike is my friend; consequently his trouble is my trouble.  Good night, Spider, and whatever else you do, be sure to—­er—­take good care of yourself!” And Ravenslee smiled and turned away; but he had not gone six paces before the Spider was at his elbow.

“Say, bo,” said he, “I don’t like the way you smile, but you talk so soft an’ pretty, I guess I’ll jest have t’ come along t’ gather up what they leave of ye.”

“Spider,” said Ravenslee, “shake!” The Spider obeyed, somewhat shamefacedly to be sure.

“It looks like two domes bein’ cracked ‘stead o’ one, an’ all along o’ that fool-kid!” Having said which, he lurched on beside Ravenslee, chewing voraciously.

“How you goin’ t’ work it?” he enquired suddenly.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Hully Chee!  You’ve sure gotcher nerve along.  There’s some o’ the toughest guys in little Manhattan Village at O’Rourke’s dump t’night, keepin’ th’ ring an’ fair achin’ for trouble.”

“We must dodge ’em, Spider.”

“S’pose we can’t?”

“Then we must trust our luck, and I’ve got a hunch we shall get Spike away somehow before Mr. Flowers dopes him or makes him drunk; anyway we’ll try.  The dressing rooms are behind the annex, aren’t they?”

“Know the place, do ye?”

“I’ve looked it over.  We can get in behind the annex, can’t we?”

“In?” repeated the Spider, smiling grimly.  “Oh, we’ll get in all right; what gets my goat is how we’re goin’ t’ get out again.  You sure are a bird for takin’ chances, Geoff.”

“Life is made up of chances, Spider, and there are two kinds of men—­those who take them joyfully and those who don’t.”