Part 66 (1/2)

”You left this behind you,” said he, thrusting forward the neckerchief, ”so I've brought it to twist around that foul throat of yours. Now, M'Ginnis--fight!”

Thrusting the neckerchief into his pocket, Ravenslee clenched his fists, and, saying no more, they closed and fought--not as men, but rather as brute beasts eager to maim and rend.

M'Ginnis's companions, dumbfounded by the sudden ferocity of it all, stood awhile inactive, staring at those two forms that lurched and swayed, that strove and panted, grimly speechless. Then, closing in, they waited an opportunity to smite down M'Ginnis's foe from behind. But the Spider was watching, and, before either of them could kick or strike, his fists thudded home--twice--hard blows aimed with scientific precision; after which, having dragged the fallen away from those fierce-trampling feet, he stood, quivering and tense, to watch that desperate encounter.

Once Ravenslee staggered back from a vicious flush-hit, and once M'Ginnis spun around to fall upon hands and knees; then they clenched, and coming to the ground together, fought there, rolling to and fro and hideously twisted together. But slowly Ravenslee's clean living began to tell, and M'Ginnis, wriggling beneath a merciless grip, uttered inarticulate cries and groaned aloud. And now the deadly neckerchief was about his gasping throat and in his ears his conqueror's fierce laugh--lost all at once in a roar of voices, a rush of trampling feet.

Wrenched at by fierce hands, smitten by unseen fists, Ravenslee was beaten down--was dimly aware of the Spider's long legs bestriding him, and staggering up through a tempest of blows, hurled himself among his crowding a.s.sailants, felled one with his right, stopped another with his left, and, as the press broke to the mad fury of his onslaught, felt his hand wrenched from a man's windpipe and heard a frantic voice that panted:

”Leg it, bo, leg it. Hully Chee! ain't ye had enough?” So, mechanically, he set off at a run, with his arm still gripped by the Spider. ”Leg it, bo--leg it good, or here's where we snuff it sure! This way--round th'

corner; only keep goin', bo, keep goin'.”

Very fleetly they ran with their pursuers close on their heels, across open lots, over fences, along tortuous alleys, until the rush and patter of the many feet died away, and the Spider, pulling up at the corner of a dismal, narrow street hard by the river, stood awhile to listen.

”Jiminy Christmas! but you're some hot stuff at the swattin'

business--you're a glutton, you are, bo. I been in one or two sc.r.a.ps meself, but I never seen a guy so hungry for--”

”Where are we?”

”Thirteenth an' Twentieth.”

”Are we safe?”

”F' th' time, I reckon. But all h.e.l.l'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! h.e.l.l'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 w.i.l.l.i.e.s. I ain't lookin' f'r no grat.i.tood, 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?”