"Nothin'! Bud ain't goin' t' know. You take this instead—take it!" And Soapy thrust another folded paper into the boy's limp hand, who took it whimpering.
"Bud tol' me t' bring it back."
"Well, you tell him you lost it."
"Not much—I'll skin right back an' tell him you pinched it."
"You won't, my sport, you won't!" said Soapy, and speaking, moved suddenly; and the boy, uttering a gasp of terror, shrank cowering with the muzzle of Soapy's deadly weapon against the pit of his stomach. "You ain't goin' t' say a word t' Bud nor nobody else, are ye, Larry boy, are ye?"
"No—no—"
"Because if ye ever did, old sport, I should give it ye there—right there in the tum-tum, see? Now chase off, an' see ye get them addresses right. S'long, Larry boy, be good now!" When the boy had scudded away, Soapy opened the paper and scanned the words of M'Ginnis's telegram and, being alone, smiled as he glanced through it.
"You got th' Kid, Bud," he murmured, "you got th' Kid—but if th' Kid gets the guy Geoff, why—I've sure got you, Bud—got ye sure as hell, Bud!"