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McArdle, with his cigar in his hand, waved it in a sign of parting. And so their visit to the McArdles closed. Mart turned to his silent and thoughtful wife, and said, with a great deal of meaning in his voice: "Well, now, what do you think of that for a fine litter of pups?" "They seem hearty." "They do. 'Tis on such that the future of the ray-public rests."
It was agreed that I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of successive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited for the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later, according to the wishes of Professor Challenger, since we could not yet know what conditions he might attach to those directions which should guide us to the unknown land.
This enterprise on his part was only necessary for a short time, as the abnormal enthusiasm in the cause of temperance which, for the time being, had swept all before it, had subsided to such an extent that McArdle, after a time, turned the room to its original purpose, and was able to resume his readings from the "Nation" to admiring audiences, as heretofore.
Mart answered, with an amused smile. "Well, now, I don't know. I think by the hour." "Ye're makin' a big bluff, Mart. We're properly impressed," said his sister. "Go pay him off, and save the money." McArdle put in a query. "You must have a good thing out there?" "'Tis enough to pay me carriage hire," answered Mart.
We had a number of harmonized choruses, including several of Moore's melodies, Banim's "Soggarth Aroon," "Native Music," by Lover; McCann's "O'Donnell Aboo!" and others. "Killarney," words by Falconer, music by Balfe, was sung by James McArdle, who had a fine tenor voice. Richard Campbell was our principal humorous singer.
Then, if Summerlee carried the day and some means of escape were found, we should return to London with first-hand knowledge of the central mystery of the plateau, to which I alone, of all men, would have penetrated. I thought of Gladys, with her "There are heroisms all round us." I seemed to hear her voice as she said it. I thought also of McArdle. What a three column article for the paper!
Before I reach the surprising events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my comrades in this enterprise, and of the associates whom we had already gathered together in South America. I speak freely, and I leave the use of my material to your own discretion, Mr. McArdle, since it is through your hands that this report must pass before it reaches the world.
Not a gleam of the lightning's unceasing blaze penetrated the windows or crevices; not a whisper of the awful tumult without reached them there. It was as if they had suddenly been stricken blind and deaf, and McArdle afterward said that for a moment he believed himself to have been killed by a stroke of lightning as he crossed the threshold.
We come here before you, a minstrel band, To carol the lays of our native land. There was one particularly daring couplet in it, the contribution of John McArdle: In your own Irish way give us one hearty cheer. Just to show us at once that you welcome us here.
It used to be a great treat to hear John McArdle, on a Sunday night, reading the "Nation," which then cost sixpence, and was, therefore, not so easily accessible, to an admiring audience, of whom I was sometimes one, and his son, John Francis McArdle, another.
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