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Updated: May 17, 2025
Some fifteen minutes later, the boy Larry, stepping out of O'Rourke's, was swung to the wall in Soapy's grip. "Aw say, cheese it now! Is that you, Soapy?" "'S right, my bucko. Fork out that telegram quick!" "Aw, say, what yer mean 'n' say, Bud told me to hustle, 'n' say " "Dig it out quick!" said Soapy, the dangling cigarette glowing fiercely. "I want it see?"
M'Ginnis glanced at the ring upon that narrow palm, a ring wrought into the semblance of two hands that clasped each other, looked closer, drew in his breath suddenly, then straightened his shoulders and threw back his head. "No!" he answered, frowning into Soapy's imperturbable face, "what th' hell made you think it was?"
"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?
Luck told him he never wanted to see him again. Sam lit out, and next folks knew he was trailing with Soapy's gang. Consequence is, Sam's hitting the toboggan for Tophet by all accounts." "Looks like some one ought to be able to pry him loose from that bunch," Curly mused aloud. Maloney grinned across at him. "You try it, son. You've always led a good pious life. He sure would listen to you."
Soapy's cigarette quivered and was still again, while M'Ginnis watched him, breathing thickly but speaking no word, and Soapy went on again: "I been takin' a peek into that little tin safe o' yours, an' I found some papers you'd been kind o' treasurin' up about me, so I burnt 'em, Bud not as they mattered very much, there ain't nobody t' worry when I snuff it but I found as you'd got other papers about other guys as would matter some t' them, I guess so I burnt 'em too, Bud."
His brothers, however, were not particularly fond of him; they would complain to their mother that Soapy's civility all meant something; they thought that his voice was too often listened to at Plumstead Episcopi, and evidently feared that, as he grew up, he would have more weight in the house than either of them; there was, therefore, a sort of agreement among them to put young Soapy down.
A young woman of a modest and pleasing guise was standing before a show window gazing with sprightly interest at its display of shaving mugs and inkstands, and two yards from the window a large policeman of severe demeanour leaned against a water plug. It was Soapy's design to assume the role of the despicable and execrated "masher."
Here was an old church, quaint and rambling and gabled. Through one violet-stained window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the organist loitered over the keys, making sure of his mastery of the coming Sabbath anthem. For there drifted out to Soapy's ears sweet music that caught and held him transfixed against the convolutions of the iron fence.
"Why then, Bud," drawled Soapy, "I'll sure meet you later. S'long." Left alone, Soapy's languor gave place to swift action. In two strides, it seemed, he was in the saloon, had beckoned the quick-eyed bartender aside and put the question: "Where's the Kid, Jake?" The bartender lifted an eyebrow and jerked a thumb upward. "Shut-eye," he nodded, and turned back to his multifarious duties.
She made them talk of life on the open range, of rustlers and those who lived outside the law in the upper Shoshone country, of the deadly war waging between the cattle and sheep industries. "Are there any sheep near the Lazy D ranch?" she asked, intensely interested in Soapy's tale of how cattle and sheep could no more be got to mix than oil and water.
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