The Spider paused, drawing in his breath slowly, as with experienced gaze he viewed Ravenslee’s pale, set face—­the delicate nostrils wide and quivering, the relentless mouth and burning eyes and all the repressed ferocity of him and, drawing back a step, the Spider shook his head.

“Bo,” said he, “that’s jest what I ain’t goin’ t’ tell ye.”

“Very well, I must find him.”

“Don’t!” said the Spider, walking on beside him, “if I didn’t think a whole lot o’ ye, I’d lead ye t’ him.”

“Oh—­I shall find him, if it takes me all night.”

“An’ if ye do, it’ll be murder, I’m dead sure—­”

“Murder?” said Ravenslee with a flash of white teeth.  “Well, I shall certainly kill him—­this time!”

“Is it th’ Kid again?”

“No—­oh, no, it’s just for my own satisfaction—­and pleasure.”

“You ain’t heeled, are ye?  This ain’t goin’ t’ be no gun-play—­eh?”

“No, I haven’t a gun, but I’ve brought his—­neckerchief.”

“Sufferin’ Pete!” murmured the Spider in a strangely awed voice, and walked on in silence, chewing viciously.

“Bo,” said he at last, “I’m thinkin’ th’ kindest thing I could do would be t’ slip one over t’ your point while you wasn’t lookin’, an’ puttin’ you t’ sleep a bit—­you want soothin’!  Bud’ll be too big fer you or any other guy t’ tackle now; ye see, his stock’s rose—­th’ Noo Jersey p’lice wasn’t strong enough t’ hold him—­”

“That’s where I’m different—­I can!” said Ravenslee, opening and shutting his right hand convulsively.  “Yes, I’ll hold him till his last kick—­and after!”

“My God!” exclaimed the Spider softly, and, beholding that clutching right hand, he edged away.

“Where you goin’ t’ look fer him?” he enquired after a while.

“O’Rourke’s!”

“Why not try Raynor’s first?” and he nodded to a saloon on the adjacent corner.

“Because I’m not a fool.”

“Bo, I ain’t s’ sure o’ that!  O’Rourke’s’ll be full o’ tough guys t’night; all th’ bunch’ll be there, an’ if Bud tips ’em th’ say-so, they’ll snuff your light out quicker ’n winkin’.”

“That wouldn’t be such a hardship.”

“Oh, so that’s it, hey?  You got a kiss-me-an’-let-me-die sort o’ feelin’, hey?  Some nice bit o’ stuff been turnin’ ye down, bo?”

“That’ll be about enough!” said Ravenslee, quick and fierce; and, meeting the flash of his eye, the Spider edged away again.

“Sufferin’ Mike!” said he, “you sure ain’t doin’ the affable chat stunt t’night!”

But Ravenslee strode along in silence, and the Spider, heeding the pale, set ferocity of his expression, grew troubled.

“Say,” said he at last, “this don’t happen t’ be th’ night as you’ve fixed up t’ smash th’ gang, does it?”

“No—­only M’Ginnis.”

“S’posin’ he ain’t at O’Rourke’s?”

“He’ll be somewhere else.”

“Bo, if I was your ma, I should be prayin’ you don’t find Bud, yes, sir!  An’ I should pray—­dam’ hard!”