'Don't be long,' said the bride. 'I'll be lonesome without my naughty boy. Get a nice, ripe one.' After a series of farewells that would have befitted an imminent voyage to foreign parts, the Kid went down to the street.
Here he not unreasonably hesitated, for the season was yet early spring, and there seemed small chance of wresting anywhere from those chill streets and stores the coveted luscious guerdon of summer's golden prime.
At the Italian's fruit-stand on the corner be stopped and cast a contemptuous eye over the dis- play of papered oranges, highly polished apples and wan, sun-hungry bananas.
'Gotta da peach?' asked the Kid in the tongue of Dante, the lover of lovers.
'Ah, no, - ' sighed the vender. 'Not for one mont com-a da peach. Too soon. Gotta da nice-a orange. Like-a da orange?'
Scornful, the Kid pursued his quest. He entered the all-night chop-house, cafe, and bowling-alley of his friend and admirer, Justus O'Callahan. The O'Callahan was about in his institution, looking for leaks.
'I want it straight,' said the Kid to him. 'The old woman has got a hunch that she wants a peach. Now, if you've got a peach, Cal, get it out quick. I want it and others like it if you've got 'em in plural quantities.'
'The house is yours,' said O'Callahan. 'But there's no peach in it. It's too soon. I don't sup- pose you could even find 'em at one of the Broadway joints. That's too bad. When a lady fixes her mouth for a certain kind of fruit nothing else won't do. It's too late now to find any of the first-class fruiterers open. But if you think the missis would like some nice oranges I've just got a box of fine ones in that she might.'
'Much obliged, Cal. It's a peach proposition right from the ring of the gong. I'll try further.'
The time was nearly midnight as the Kid walked down the West-Side avenue. Few stores were open and such as were practically hooted at the idea of a peach.
But in her moated flat the bride confidently awaited her Persian fruit. A champion welter-weight not find a peach? - not stride triumphantly over the seasons and the zodiac and the almanac to fetch an Amsden's June or a Georgia cling to his owny-own?
The Kid's eye caught sight of a window that was lighted and gorgeous with nature's most entrancing colors. The light suddenly went out. The Kid sprinted and caught the fruiterer locking his door.
'Peaches?' said he, with extreme deliberation.
'Well, no, Sir. Not for three or four weeks yet. I haven't any idea where you might find some. There may be a few in town from under the glass, but they'd be bard to locate. Maybe at one of the more expen- sive hotels - some place where there's plenty of money to waste. I've got some very fine oranges, though - from a shipload that came in to-day.'
The Kid lingered on the corner for a moment, and then set out briskly toward a pair of green lights that flanked the steps of a building down a dark side street.
'Captain around anywhere?' he asked of the desk sergeant of the police station.
At that moment the captain came briskly forward from the rear. He was in plain clothes and had a busy air.
'Hello, Kid,' he said to the pugilist. 'Thought you were bridal-touring?
'Got back yesterday. I'm a solid citizen now. Think I'll take an interest in municipal doings. How would it suit you to get into Denver Dick's place to- night, Cap?
'Past performances,' said the captain, twisting his moustache. 'Denver was closed up two months ago.'
'Correct,' said the Kid. 'Rafferty chased him out of the Forty-third. He's running in your pre- cinct now, and his game's bigger than ever. I'm down on this gambling business. I can put you against his game.'
'In my precinct?' growled the captain. 'Are you sure, Kid? I'll take it as a favor. Have you got the entree? How is it to be done?'
'Hammers,' said the Kid. 'They haven't got any steel on the doors yet. You'll need ten men. No, they won't let me in the place. Denver has been trying to do me. He thought I tipped him off for the other raid. I didn't, though. You want to hurry. I've got to get back home. The house is only three blocks from here.'
Before ten minutes had sped the captain with a dozen men stole with their guide into the hallway of a dark and virtuous-looking building in which many businesses were conducted by day.
'Third floor, rear,' said the Kid, softly. 'I'll lead the way.'
Two axemen faced the door that he pointed out to them.
'It seems all quiet,' said the captain, doubtfully.
'Are you sure your tip is straight?'
'Cut away!' said the Kid. 'It's on me if it ain't.'
The axes crashed through the as yet unprotected door. A blaze of light from within poured through the smashed panels. The door fell, and the raiders rang into the room with their guns handy.
The big room was furnished with the gaudy mag- nificence dear to Denver Dick's western ideas. Vari- ous well-patronized games were in progress. About fifty men who were in the room rushed upon the police in a grand break for personal liberty. The plain- clothes men had to do a little club-swinging. More than half the patrons escaped.
Denver Dick had graced his game with his own presence that night. He led the rush that was in- tended to sweep away the smaller body of raiders, But when be saw the Kid his manner became personal. Being in the heavyweight class be cast himself joy- fully upon his slighter enemy, and they rolled down a flight of stairs in each others arms. On the land- ing they separated and arose, and then the Kid was able to use some of his professional tactics, which had been useless to him while in the excited clutch of a 200-pound sporting gentleman who was
