“I suppose,” mused Ravenslee, looking him over with knowledgeful eye, “yes, I judge, as you are now, you would fight about seven or eight pounds over your ringside weight.  You’d have to give me eighteen pounds!  Spider—­I could eat you!  Come, shake hands and let’s go and fetch Spike.”

Now, speaking, Ravenslee smiled, with eyes as well as lips; beholding which, the Spider grew slowly upright, his knotted fists unclenched, and, staring Ravenslee in the eyes, he reached out slowly and by degrees and grasped the proffered hand.

“Say,” said he, falling to violent mastication of his eternal chewing gum, “who’d you have d’mitts on with last—­an’ when?”

“Oh, it seems ages ago!” sighed Ravenslee.  “But where’s Spike?”

“Say, bo, who wants him, an’ whaffor?  Spike’s me pal, see, so I jest shore wants ter savvy who wants him an’ why?”

“His sister—­”

“Hully Chee!  Why didn’t youse say so at first?  When Miss Hermione wants anything she’s gotta have it, I guess!  Ain’t that right, fellers?”

“You bet,” chimed the four.

“So if she wants d’ Kid, I guess I’ll jest have to fetch him for her.  Come on, bo!  S’long, fellers!”

Hereupon, having acknowledged the friendly salutes of the four, Ravenslee followed the Spider out into the court, empty now and silent.

“Say, bo, where’d you meet up wid Spike, anyway?” enquired the Spider, as they strode along Tenth Avenue.  “You don’t belong around here, do ye?”

“No.  Do you know where he was last night?”

“You can search me, bo.  All I savvy is he was off on some frame-up or other.”

“Who with?”

“Well—­not wid me.”

“Did you see any one with him besides M’Ginnis at O’Rourke’s?”

“No, there was only them two.”

“Ah, I guessed as much,” said Ravenslee, nodding; “he went away with M’Ginnis—­good!”

“Say, bo,” questioned the Spider when they had gone some way in silence, “I ain’t seen you fight anywheres, have I?”

“No, but I’ve seen you, Spider, I saw you beat Larry McKinnon at ’Frisco.”

“Which sure was some fight!” nodded the Spider.  “Them half-arm jolts of his sure shook me some; he’d have got me in th’ third if I hadn’t clinched.”

“He was a terror at in-fighting.”

“He sure was, bo!”

“It was your jabbing and footwork won you the fight, Spider, one of the best I’ve ever seen—­very little clinching and clean breakaways.”

“Larry sure was game all through, yes—­right up to the knock-out.  A good, clean fighter.  ‘N’ say, bo, I was real sorry to see him counted out.”

“It meant a big purse for you, I remember.”

“Oh, sure, I had money to burn.  I ain’t got much left now, though,” said the Spider ruefully.

“You came pretty near being a world’s champion, Spider.”

“Aw—­jest near enough t’ miss it, I guess.  Talkin’ o’ champeens, the greatest of ’em, th’ best fightin’ man as ever swung a mitt, I reckon was Joe Madden, as retired years ago.  Nobody could ever lick Joe Madden.”