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But they had no other couch than the straw, for Ross Gilhooley had not spared the feather-beds, and the little cabin at the Notch was now half full of the fluff ripped out by his sharp knife from the split ticks.
In the shop windows you will see those photographs illustrating current events, the two favourites just now being a picture of Mike Gilhooley, the famous stowaway, gazing plaintively at the profile of New York, and "Jack Dempsey Goes the Limit," where Jack signs up for a $1,000 war-savings certificate. One wonders if Jack's kind of warfare is really so profitable after all.
For an honest man, however poor, feels all the high prerogatives of honor. There was a step in the shed-room where Ross Gilhooley had lurked and listened. His wrath now spent, his mind had traveled the obvious course to his son's conclusion.
The younger Gilhooley, however, quaked as his limited intelligence laid hold on the fact that if the law had permitted a levy on the household goods to satisfy the judgment of Peter Petrie their destruction was in itself a balking of the process, resistance to the law, and with an unimagined penalty. "We-uns hev got ter git away from hyar somehows!" he said with decision.
"Nare Gilhooley should ever cross Storm Mounting, 'cordin ter yer saying Petey, an' hyar ye hev been totin' Boss Gilhooley 's gran'son back an' forth across Old Stormy, an' all yer spare time ye spend on yer hands an' knees bar kin' like a dog jes' ter pleasure him." Peter Petrie changed countenance suddenly.
They had accounted the baby drowned when, missing him, they had retraced their way, finding naught but a bit of old blanket on which he had lain, close to the verge of the cruel river. Boss Gilhooley, softened and rendered tractable by exile and sorrow, upon his return lent himself to an affected warmth toward Peter Petrie which gradually assumed all the fervors of sincerity.
"An' paid it!" cried Jane Gilhooley. "Ye know that!" "An' then, ez it 'pears ter be the law ez one hundred dollars fur sech an offense is ter be forfeited ter ennybody ez will sue fur it," Medora resumed, "Petrie seen his chance ter git even fur bein' beat in a reg'lar knock-down-an'-drag-out fight, an'," with the rising inflection of a climax, "he hev sued and got jedgmint!"
The words seemed to epitomize all religion, all value, all hope' and somehow they so dwelt in his mind that the next day he was moved to add a personal message to old Boss Gilhooley in sending the more important information to Bruce. "Let on ter Boss," he charged the envoy, "ez ez that thar jedgmint an' execution issued war jes' formal ye mought say jes' ter hev all the papers reg'lar."
It had not seemed impossible that ere the day should dawn they might be far away in those impenetrable forests where one may journey many a league, meeting naught more inimical or speculative than bear or deer. It still was worth the effort. With a sudden spring from the tailboard of the wagon Bruce Gilhooley reached the yoke, fiercely goading the oxen onward.
"An' so what that half-drunk dep'ty, Clem Tweed, calls an execution war leveled!" exclaimed Jane Gilhooley, her veiled head swaying forlornly as she sobbed invisibly. "But Dad 'lowed ez Peter Petrie shouldn't hev none o' his gear," Medora's eyes flashed with a responsive sentiment. "His gran'mam's warpin' bars!" suggested the elder woman.
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