“Where are we?”

“Thirteenth an’ Twentieth.”

“Are we safe?”

“F’ th’ time, I reckon.  But all Hell’s Kitchen’ll be out after us t’night, sure.  So I guess it’s us for th’ immediate hike—­”

“Us?  Will they be after you, too?”

“Well,” said the Spider, smiling down grimly at his damaged, knuckles, “I guess yes!  Hell’s Kitchen an’ Tenth Av’ner’s got t’ get along without me from now on, I reckon.  They ain’t losin’ much, an’ I ain’t leavin’ much, but—­”

“Why the devil had you got to follow me to-night?” demanded Ravenslee, scowling.

“Bo,” said the Spider as they went on again, “there’s times when my likin’ f’r you gets a pain; there’s times when y’r talk gives me th’ earache, an’ y’r lovin’ looks the willies.  I ain’t lookin’ f’r no gratitood, nor yet a gold dinner-set an’ loominated address, but, not ownin’ a hide like a sole-leather Saratoga, I’ll jest get on me way—­S’ long!”

“Where are you going?”

“I dunno, but—­I’m goin’ there, right now.”

But as the Spider turned away, his hand was caught and gripped, and Ravenslee was smiling; his features looked a bit battered, but his smile was pleasant as ever.

“Forgive my cursed temper, Spider.  I owe you my life again and—­I ought to be grateful, I suppose.  Forgive me, I’m—­not quite myself to-night.”

“Sure thing!” said the Spider, returning his grasp, “but, bo, I’m kind o’ wonderin’ in me little mind what Bud’s feelin’ like!  You sure swatted him good an’ heavy.  I never seen cleaner footwork, an’ them left jabs o’ yours—­”

“The question is, how do you feel, Spider, and what are you going to do?”

The pugilist scratched his rough chin.  “Well, that’s what gets my goat; I dunno quite, bo.  Y’ see, I shan’t be able t’ get no more fights here in the East now, not wi’ Bud ‘n’ his old man against me—­y’ see, Bud’s old man’s about the biggest—­”

“I wonder if you’d care to come with me?”

“Whaffor?”

“Well, for one thing, I need another chauffeur and—­”

“A—­what?” The Spider halted under a lamp-post to stare at Ravenslee a little anxiously.  “Say, now, take a holt of ye’self an’ jest put that one over th’ plate again—­you need a—­what?”

“Another chauffeur.”

“Another shuvver—­another?  Bo, y’ didn’t happen t’ get a soak on th’ bean just now, did ye?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I guess you’re some shook up; what you want’s food, right now!”

“Why, yes, now you mention it, I’m devilish hungry,” agreed Ravenslee.

“Leave it t’ me, bo—­I know a chewin’-joint close by—­soup, joint, sweets, an’ coffee an’ only a quarter a throw—­some feed, bo!  Shin right along, I’ll—­”

“No, you shall come home and dine with me.”

“Home?” repeated the Spider, halting to stare again; “you’re sure talkin’ ramblin’—­”

“We can discuss the chauffeur’s job then—­”