Part 49 (2/2)

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.”

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