"Bud? Bud?" stammered the Spider. "Have they pinched Bud? Is this the straight goods, Tony?"
"Sure—they gott-a heem this-a morn in Jersey City—'n' say, he think-a eet a frame-up—he theenk-a Geoff set-a de cops for-a take heem."
"The hell he does!" exclaimed the Spider, starting to his feet.
"So he send-a da word to Soapy," continued Tony, his eyes rolling, "an' now all-a da gang's out layin' for-a Geoff. So when Geoff go-a out on da street—bingo! Dey snuff hees light out—"
"Not much they won't!" said the Spider, buttoning up his coat and turning to the door. "I'll mighty soon fix this, I guess."
"Do you think you can, Spider?" enquired Ravenslee. "If you're going to have any trouble, don't bother about—"
"Bo," said the Spider, squaring his big jaw, "get onto this: here's where I chip in with ye; from now on we're in this game together, an' I ain't a guy as'll lay down his hand till I'm called—an' called good, see? You said it was goin' t' be a man's work—by Jiminy Christmas, it looks like you're right; anyway, I stand in with you, that's sure—put it there, bo!"
"But," said Ravenslee, as their hands gripped, "I don't want you to take any chances on my account, or run any—"
"Fudge, bo, fudge! I ain't takin' no chances—"
"Well, I'm coming along to see you don't!" said Ravenslee, reaching for his hat.