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How much is it for, now, Maggie?" "Ah! good gracious! don't be axin' the child them things. Sure how in the world could she tell, an' it afther bein' written in America? God bless us! let her have a look at the letther anyhow." "'My dear uncle and aunt," began Maggie, slowly spelling out. Mrs. Brophy uttered a shrill scream, and clapped her hands together. "It's from Larry!
He sat still, rubbing his hands, and smiling a rather vacant smile; and by-and-by, having exhausted their queries and conjectures, the visitors left the cabin, and the old couple were alone. They stared at each other for a moment or two in silence, Mary Brophy fingering the letter which she could not read.
He rode close to the base of the ridge, whose curving course was favorable, and facing about started back toward the point he had left after his survey of the party that held Tim Brophy a prisoner. He did not believe there was any special danger in this, for he had only to maintain a sharp lookout to detect the Sioux, if they happened to be journeying in that direction.
Well, of course, when ye have a fancy for it that way, it's best for ye to take it wid ye. But I question if Mrs. Larry 'ud like the looks of it comin' into her grand kitchen. Sure Bill tould me, that time he came back from America, there wasn't such a thing as a pot to be seen over there at all. But plaze yerself, ma'am, of coorse." Mrs. Brophy looked startled and perturbed.
Warren would have been full of hope and resolution, but for Tim Brophy. His concern for his devoted friend forbade him turning the situation solely to his own account. He made a hasty examination of his rifle, and found nothing the matter with it. It was ready for use whenever needed.
Despite the belief of Brophy that no attack would be made until after darkness had closed, a belief shared by Mr. Starr, the rancher was fearful that his home would be placed under surveillance while daylight lasted, and that the intended flight would be discovered before it began.
Some one had swatted him in the temple with a revolver butt; but the sight that just about made me homesick was Jim, the deputy cook. Monody hadn't broken the windpipe, an' he wasn't dead yet. It was him 'at made the floppin' sound. Oh, it was sickening! Brophy was a fine lookin' man I recognized him from his description right at once an' he hadn't been even grazed.
"Father Taylor himself couldn't tell yez what's in a letther before he had it opened." "Who's it from, Maggie asthore? Tell us that much," cried Mrs. Brophy with shrill eagerness. Maggie drew the letter from the envelope and slowly unfolded it. An enclosure fell out. Several hands were outstretched to catch it, and Mrs. Kinsella succeeded. "What in the name o' goodness is this?" she asked.
The more religious of them declared that the ghost would hold communion only with a certain priest, who came once a year, at midnight, to invoke in an unknown tongue a blessing on her troubled spirit. "The divel's soundin'-stone is it ye's wants?" ejaculated Mr. Brophy. "Shure, it's beyant a mile, about perhaps two perhaps not so many perhaps more. Much good may it do ye's when ye's finds it.
"Why don't you try it?" asked the girl. Jimmy looked at her with a quizzical smile. "Thank you," he said. "Oh, I didn't mean it that way," she cried. "But from what you tell me I imagine that all a man needs is a front and plenty of punch. You've got the front all right with your looks and gift of gab, and I leave it to Young Brophy if you haven't got the punch."
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