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The foremost was Pete Hanun, and he also stood staring. The "breaker of teeth" had two teeth of his own missing, and when his prize-fighter's jaw dropped down, the deficiency became conspicuous. It was probably his first entrance into society, and he was like an overgrown boy caught in the jam-closet. Percy Harrigan's manner became distinctly imperious. "What does this mean?" he demanded.
"I'll kill you by inches, Harrigan. You'll read hell in my eyes before your end. Drink this!" He raised Harrigan's almost lifeless head and forced the neck of a whisky bottle between his teeth. "Ah-h!" said Harrigan, blinking and coughing after the strong liquor had burned its way down his throat. "The feel av your throat under me thumbs was sweeter than the touch av a colleen's hand, McTee!
The sound was so soft that it was almost a sigh, but she shivered perceptibly. "What have you been doing?" He answered regretfully: "Nothing." "They're coming this way. The man who had the carnation is with them. You better beat it." "Nope. I like it here." She shook her head, but the flame was blowing high now in her eyes. A hand fell on Harrigan's shoulder.
Pat Harrigan's in the hospital now. Just been looking in on him. Pat's a feller who likes to fight. Rather fight he would than see a ball-game. But this was too much for him. Know what happened? Why, see here, just like this it was. Pat goes out with his cart. Passing through a low-down street on his way up-town he's held up by a bunch of toughs. He shows fight.
Kate and McTee both stood frozen with attention, for one of the voices was Harrigan's, saying: "And why the devil have you brought me away up here, bos'n?" "Because we have to watch sharp, Harrigan. There are some of the lads we can't trust too far, and they mustn't overhear us when we talk." "Why, Hovey, they can hear us inside the cabin." "She cannot.
They went slowly down the hill, their heads bent. At the base, as if placed in their path to cheer them in this moment of gloom, they found a spring. It ran a dozen feet and disappeared into a crevice. They cupped the water in their hands and drank long and deep. When they stood up again, McTee dropped a hand on Harrigan's shoulder. He said: "You've cause enough for hating me."
This quiet, resolute old "Dutchy," whom you might have taken for a delicatessen-proprietor; this merry-eyed Irish boy, whom you would have expected to be escorting a lady to a firemen's ball they were captains of an army of sappers who were undermining the towers of Peter Harrigan's fortress of greed! Hartman suggested that Jerry might take a chance at this sort of work.
Harrigan's hands had not left his hips before he met the ground, and he was back on his feet like a bounding ball only to go down again before the smashing impact of those blows. Caution he tried to use in rising and they searched out his face, his chin, and drove him hither and yon.
I have nothing to do with conditions in Peter Harrigan's camps." The smile left Hal's face. "Would you have preferred to have me investigate conditions in the Warner camps?" Hal had tried to suppress his irritation, but there was simply no way these two could get along.
No hours of Harrigan's life were bitterer than that night shift. The bandages saved his hands from much of the torture of the shovel handle, but there was deep night in his heart. Early in the morning one of the firemen ran to the chief engineer's room and forced open the door. "The red-headed man, sir," he stammered breathlessly. The chief engineer awoke with a snarl.
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