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Peters, Manton's chauffeur, and I found a couple of horseshoes and we were throwing them most of the time." "How long was the machine alone here in the yard this morning?" "A couple of hours, maybe. I knew the old boiler was safe enough, and that if they wanted me they'd look over in McCann's." "Well," Kennedy extended his hand, "I thank you, and I won't forget you, McGroarty."
"I will see that you don't lose your place, and I give you my word again that Charles Wrexell Allen has never been aboard this yacht, or at Mohair to my knowledge. What is more, I will prove it to-morrow to your satisfaction." McCann's faith was touching. "Ye're not to say another word, sir," he said, and he stuck out his big hand, which I grasped warmly.
"I will see that you don't lose your place, and I give you my word again that Charles Wrexell Allen has never been aboard this yacht, or at Mohair to my knowledge. What is more, I will prove it to-morrow to your satisfaction." McCann's faith was touching. "Ye're not to say another word, sir," he said, and he stuck out his big hand, which I grasped warmly.
But if we cannot claim as an original Irish air McCann's song as it is now sung, the same critical examination which brings out its resemblance to Mazzinghi's music, also shows that the Italian composer most probably got his inspiration from the music of the Irish or Scottish Gaels, as being most suitable for his theme.
At our last camp at the lakes, The Rebel and I, as partners, had been shamefully beaten in a game of seven-up by Bull Durham and John Officer, and had demanded satisfaction in another trial around the fire that night. We borrowed McCann's lantern, and by the aid of it and the camp-fire had an abundance of light for our game.
It's not Jim McCann's b'y that'll be doin' the dirthy job that yer Mr. Champney Googe was after doin' six years gone, nor be after takin' the bread an' butter out of an honest man's mout' that has a wife an' three childer to feed. He's a convic', says Jim. "'What if he is? says I.
"All right, old man, glad to have you," said my client. This brought a smile to McCann's face as he got into his boat. We were all standing in the cockpit, save the Celebrity, who was just inside of the cabin door. I had time to note that he was pale, and no more: I must have been pale myself. A few strokes brought the chief to the Maria's stern.
Flood asked Wilson to bring his outfit to our wagon for breakfast, and as fast as they were relieved from herd, they also did ample justice to McCann's cooking. During breakfast, I remember Wilson explaining to Flood what he believed was the cause of the stampede.
It was a close play, but Buck caught McCann as the latter's hand was fully six inches from the bag. "Out at second!" declared Carker. There was a hush as the runner scrambled to his feet. "What?" roared McCann, rushing at Carker and seizing him in a fury. "Did you call me out, you chump? What do you mean?" He swung Greg round roughly. Frank promptly reached for the back of McCann's neck.
"And we'll be missing him sore," said Polly Ann, with a sigh. I wanted to speak then, but the words would not come. "Whar hev they gone?" said Tom. "To take a walk," said Polly Ann, and laughed. "The gentry has sech fancies as that. Tom, I reckon I'll fly over to Mrs. McCann's an' beg some of that prime bacon she has." Tom picked up his ride, and they went out together.
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