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Updated: June 8, 2025
It was reported that he came from New York, where, it was whispered, he had once kept bar on the Bowery for McTurk. Sergeant Clancey, of G Troop, was the authority for this. But when, presuming on that supposition, he claimed acquaintanceship with Cahill, the post-trader spread out his hands on the counter and stared at the sergeant with cold and disconcerting eyes.
Cahill's house, while the widow and her two young guests applauded enthusiastically. As the clown's wagon drew on, a horse ridden by a young woman was seen dashing straight at the dooryard fence, which it took in a graceful leap, causing the Widow Cahill to gasp her amazement.
"Never could understand why anybody should want to run when he's going to school. Now, I always run when I start off after school's out. What you doing here?" demanded the boy, drawing his eyelids down into a squint. "I've been chopping some wood for Mrs. Cahill." "Huh! What's the matter with the bear this morning?" "The bear?"
And he handed me a crumpled piece of paper about four inches square, on which I read "To Michael Cahill, Esq, Office of the Civil Engineer, Lake Diception "Sirs, "Hearin' ye were lately appointed Governmint gardner, we sind a sample of our goods. Eny orders ye can sind will receive prompt attintion. "Green and Brown, manufacturing company, "County of Limerick, "Ireland."
The next morning Miss Cahill learned the news when the junior officer came to mess and explained why Ranson was not with them. Her only comment was to at once start for his quarters with his breakfast in a basket. She could have sent it by Pete, but, she argued, when one of her officers was in trouble that was not the time to turn him over to the mercies of a servant.
But, unmindful of them, Ranson now leaned forward, the eager, searching look coming back into his black eyes. They were so close to Mary Cahill's that she drew away. He dropped his voice to a whisper and spoke swiftly. "Miss Cahill, whatever happens to me I won't forget this. I won't forget your coming here and throwing heart into me. You were the only one who did.
Then he came down the room and regarded his prospective father-in-law with an expression of amused exasperation. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his riding-breeches and nodded his head. "Well," he exclaimed, "you've made a damned pretty mess of it, haven't you?" Cahill had sunk heavily into a chair and was staring at Ranson with the stupid, wondering gaze of a dumb animal in pain.
A moment later the crowd was hushed. A tremour ran through it. The sounds of marching troops: the unintelligible words of command, broke in on them. Father Cahill plunged in amongst them. "The constabulary," he cried. "Back to your homes." "Stay where you are," shouted O'Connell. "I beg you, my children! I command you! I entreat you! Don't have bloodshed here to-day!"
After six months of this exile, one night at the mess-table Ranson broke forth in open rebellion. "I tell you I can't stand it a day longer," he cried. "I'm going to resign!" From behind the counter Mary Cahill heard him in horror. Second Lieutenants Crosby and Curtis shuddered. They were sons of officers of the regular army.
The post trader fixed Ranson with his keen, unwavering eyes. "What might that be?" he asked. "Well, it doesn't matter now," stammered Ranson; "I'll wait until Miss Cahill tells you." "Any complaint about the food?" inquired the post trader. Ranson laughed nervously. "No, it's not that," he said. He rose, and, to protect what Miss Cahill evidently wished to remain a secret, changed the subject.
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