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Updated: May 8, 2025
"'Make yo' peace, Miss Deely! make yo' peace, honey! kaze I gwine right back ter dat baby ef de Lord spar' me. I gwine back, Miss Deely! I gwine back!
Denis Donohoe took a sack of hay from the top of the creel of turf, and spread some of it on the side of the road for the donkey. While he did so a woman who wore a white cap, a grey bodice, a thick woollen red petticoat, under which her bare lean legs showed, came to the door, waving the yellow hen off her perch. "Good day to you, Mrs. Deely," Denis Donohoe said, showing his strong teeth.
"No man ought to have such eyes," remarked a woman present to the Young Doctor, who abstractedly nodded assent, for, like Malachi Deely and John Sibley, he himself had a theory about Crozier; and he had a fear of what the savage enmity of the morally diseased Burlingame might do.
When he reached the cabin Denis Donohoe dismounted and walked into the kitchen, his eyes bright, his steps so eager that he became conscious of it and pulled up at once. Mrs. Deely was sitting by the fire, her knitting needles busy. Denis Donohoe sat down beside her.
Crozier was speaking with the look of the man who hypnotises himself, who "sees things," who dreams as only the gambler and the plunger on the turf do dream, not even excepting the latter-day Irish poets. "Say, I was right what I said to Deely I was right," remarked Sibley almost huskily, for it seemed to him as though he had found a long-lost brother.
P'r'aps J. G. Kerry's got that vice same as me." "Annyhow, we'll get to know all we want when he goes into the witness box at the Logan murder trial next week. That's what I'm waitin' for, "Deely returned, with a grin of anticipation.
It was not because of crime that "He buckles up his talk like the bellyband on a broncho," as Malachi Deely, the exile from Tralee, said of him; and Deely was a man of "horse-sense," no doubt because he was a horse-doctor "a veterenny surgeon," as his friends called him when they wished to flatter him.
Like many a speculator, Malachi Deely would have made no profit out of his bet in the end, for Shiel Crozier had had no trouble with the law, or with another man's wife, nor yet with any single maid not yet; though there was now Kitty Tynan in his path. Yet he had had trouble.
Deely laughed loudly. "And bursts out same as you! Quiet one hour like a mill-pond or a well, and then swhish, he's blazin'! He's a volcano in harness, that spalpeen." "He's a volcano that doesn't erupt when there's danger," responded Sibley. "It's when there's just fun on that his volcano gets loose. I'll go wait for him at the bank. I got a fellow-feeling for Mr. Kerry.
Watch me now, if he gives the, evidence they say he can give the prasecution say it that M'Mahon Gang behind Logan 'll get him sure as guns, one way or another." "Some one ought to give Mr. Kerry the tip to get out and not give evidence," remarked Sibley sagely. Deely shook his head vigorously. "Begobs, he's had the tip all right, but he's not goin'. He's got as much fear as a canary has whiskers.
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