Ensued a moment of tense silence, then Spike answered, his voice unnaturally thin and high-pitched.
"That—that you, Soapy?"
"'S right, Kid!"
"What you—doin' around—here?"
"Who, me? Y' see, I'm kind o' yearnin' for that gun you got there—"
"Gun? I—I ain't got—no gun—"
"Well, Kid, I know Heine's all kinds of a liar, but he tells me he's loaned you one of his, an' so—" Soapy's long arm shot out in the gloom and seizing Spike's right arm he drew it near. "Why, Kid," said he, "it kind o' looks like Heine told the truth for once by accident, don't it?"
"You leggo my wrist!"
"Right-o, Kid, right-o! Don't get peeved—"
"Well, leggo then!"