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I'll tell, too, the long years in fighting we passed, Till Mounseer asked Bony to lead him; And Sir Arthur, grown tired of glory at last, Begged of one Mickey Free to succeed him. "But, acushla," says I, "the truth is I'm shy! There's a lady in Ballymacrazy! And I swore on the book " He gave me a look, And cried: "Mickey, now can't you be asy?"
There was a momentary check, a sudden stoppage, lasting but a few seconds, when the foe rallied and made for the fugitive. But that brief interval of time was precisely what was needed, and it secured the safety of Mickey and his steed. It mattered not that Sut Simpson as good as threw away his life by his chivalrous act.
"It must have been some red spalpeen that took pity on ye. Who knows but it was Lone Wolf himself?" Both looked about them in a scared, inquiring way, but could see nothing of their unknown friend or enemy, as the case might be. "I tell you, Mickey, that it makes me feel as if we ought to get out of here." "Ye're right, and we'll just swally some of this stuff, and then we'll 'light out."
Close behind him followed Mickey and Fred, the trio forming a curious procession as they carefully picked their way across the moonlit gorge, the grass for most of the distance being so dense that they were pretty well screened from view. The directions of the scout were carefully obeyed to the letter, for, indeed, there could have been no excuse for disregarding them.
"Where did ye shoot that uncleope, or antelope?" asked Mickey. "I didn't shoot him at all; he's the one you fetched down. Yer left enough for me, so I didn't run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass, and fetched it along." "Ye haven't got any of it about ye?" "Not enough for yer folks no more than three or four pounds."
The long, lank figure of Sut Simpson looked as if it was a shadow slowly stealing along the dark face of the rock, followed by that of Mickey and the lad. They were as silent as phantoms, each walking as tenderly and carefully as though he was a burglar breaking into the house of some sleeping merchant, whose slumbers were as light as down.
"That means a nobbler for Mickey," said Kate. "Either of those men would think it a treat to ride ten miles in and ten miles back, with a horse-load of sugar and tea and flour, for the sake of a glass of brandy-and-water." "And so would you," said Harry, "if you lived in a hut by yourself for a fortnight, with nothing to drink but tea without milk." The old lady and Mrs.
Mickey, in accordance with his custom, carefully folded up what was left, and, taking a drink from the stream which ran near at hand, they sprang upon the backs of their mustangs, and headed westward in the direction of New Boston, provided such a settlement was still in existence by the grace of Lone Wolf, leader of the Apaches.
Could nothing be done for him now, Father Roach? says I, looking up in the priest's face. "'I'm greatly afraid, Mickey, he was a bad man, a very bad man. "'And ye think he'll go there? says I. "'Indeed, Mickey, I have my fears. "'Upon my conscience, says I, 'I believe you're right; he was always a restless crayture. "'But it doesn't depind on him, says the priest, crossly.
Mickey McSquizzle returned to Ballyduff Kings County, Ireland, where, we heard, he and his gentle Bridget, are in the full enjoyment of the three thousand pounds he carried with him. Ethan Hopkins settled down with the girl of his choice in Connecticut, where, at last accounts, he was doing as well as could be expected.
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