ed a sudden
corner.

"To d' river!"

"This is Eleventh Avenue, then?"

"Yep! Watch out you don't trip on d' railroad tracks." And now the
Spider seemed to have become thoughtful also, and somewhat gloomy,
judging by his face as seen by an occasional feeble light as they
traversed the unlovely thoroughfare.

"Bo," said he suddenly, "I'm thinkin' there's some guys in this world as
would be better out of it. I'm thinkin' of some guy as got a little girl
into trouble--an' left her to it. Her kid died, an' her folks turned her
out, an' she'd have died too, I guess, if it hadn't been for Miss
Hermione an' old Mother Trapes--ye see, she was all alone, poor little
kid! Now a man as would treat a girl that ways ain't got no right t'
live, I reckon. I should like t' know who that guy was! I should like
t' meet that guy--once!"

After this the Spider became more gloomy than ever and spoke only in
surly monosyllables. Suddenly he turned off along a narrow, ill-lighted
alleyway that led them between divers small mean houses and tall, dark
warehouses and brought them suddenly out upon the misty foreshore beyond
which the dim and mighty river flowed. On they went, the Spider's
depression growing perceptibly, until at last their feet trod the rough
planking of a narrow causeway which ended in a dark, raft-like structure
moored out in the river. Here was a small and dismal shack from whose
solitary window a feeble ray of light beamed.

Ravenslee shivered suddenly and stopped to stare about him while his
listless hands changed to tight-clenched fists.

What was it?

What was there about this dismal, silent place that seemed to leap at
him all at once from the dimness, he knew not whence? Was it the shack
with its solitary light, or the broad river lapping with soft sighings
and low weeping sounds among the piles below, or was it something in the
altered aspect of the guiding figure that led him forward, slow and ever
slower, as if with dragging feet, and yet with feet that trod so softly?

"Spider," said he at last, speaking in hushed and breathless manner,
"Spider--where are we?" and speaking he shivered again, even while his
clenched hand wiped the sweat from his brow. The Spider made no answer,
for the feeble light was blotted out by a very solid something which,
approaching softly, resolved itself into a burly, blue-clad form whose
silver buttons and shield showed conspicuous.

"What's doin'!" demanded a voice. "Who is i