Word had gone about among the “floor committee” that Kelly was looking for him, and Larry received mysterious nods, winks and signals. He could make nothing of it, so he led Annie to a seat beside Miss McTurpin, and walked over to where McGonagle, who had crossed the room, was standing.
“What’s the new one?” inquired Larry. “What’s the gang all pullin’ faces about?”
“Keep yer eyes on Kelly,” cautioned Goose. “He’s been puttin’ away booze all night, and he wants to see you about the girl what you flagged at the door.”
“Oh!” Larry shoved his head forward in a bull-like movement and stared about him. “Does he want some o’ my game, eh? Is the lobster spoilin’ to mix it up with me? There’ll be on’y two blows struck; I’ll hit him, and he’ll hit the floor!”
Mike McCarty came out of the barroom and approached them, crossing the floor in the midst of the dancers. A girl’s swinging skirts almost wrapped themselves about him, as her partner piloted her by.
“Ah, there, Mike?” cried the lady, gleefully, and McCarty bowed like a Chesterfield, never pausing in his stride, however, until he reached the spot where Goose and Larry were talking.
“Kelly’s comin’ across,” said he pointing among the dancing throng. “He just seen youse a minit ago, and he’s goin’ to lay you out, so he says.”
Larry growled an answer deep down in his chest; he was looking at Kelly and his two allies as they swaggered through the dancers. McGonagle rapped out a vexed oath, as he caught Larry by the arm.
“I t’ought,” complained he, “that we’d pull off this affair wit’out any scrappin’; and here them mugs spoils it all. Say, if there’s a fight, Annie won’t do a t’ing but climb down me back fer fetchin’ her.”
“My girl too,” said McCarty, dolefully.