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Fearin' nayther God, man, nor th' divil, he come into th' woods, an' in wan sayson lear-rnt more about logs thin th' most av us'll iver know." "Moncrossen liked him spoke very highly of him, and that is unusual with Moncrossen." Fallon's breath whistled through his teeth at the words. "Loiked um, did he? Sure he loiked um loike a rabbit loikes a wolf!"
Oi'll go along to show ye, an' we'll take a turn down th' tote-road phwere we c'n talk widout its gittin' to th' ears av th' boss." Wondering at the man's precautions for secrecy, he followed, and for a half-hour listened to the fireside gossip of the camp. He noticed that Fallon's glance traveled over the various groups as if seeking some one, and he wondered which of the men was Stromberg.
It even paid a little better than before, partly because it flattered Fallon's sense of Christian helpfulness to throw whatever it could in Rose's way, but chiefly because she made the Independent a livelier sheet with double the usual number of "Personals." Yes, decidedly, Rose had force and push. Martin's mind was made up.
In the side-pocket of his mackinaw his hand encountered an object hard and cold and unfamiliar to his touch. He withdrew it and looked at the wicked, blue-black outlines of an automatic pistol. Idly he examined the clip, crowded with shiny, yellow cartridges. He recognized the gun as Fallon's, and smiled as he returned it to his pocket.
An' from that toime on till he wint down undher th' logs we wuz loike two brothers ondly more so." "Pretty good man, was he?" "A-a-h, there wuz a man!" Fallon's big fist banged noisily upon the table, and his blue eyes lighted as he faced his employer. "Misther Appleton, ye losht a man phwin th' greener wint undher.
"Owld man Appleton's over to Creighton, eighty moiles wesht av here, sooperintindin' a new camp on Blood River, wan hundred an' tin moiles above Moncrossen's. Fallon's wid um, an' Shtromberg, an' a lot more av th' good min that's toired av worrkin' undher Moncrossen." "He is not bossing the camp himself!" exclaimed Bill. "No, but he's got to kape an eye on't.
The P. and S. W. made S. Behrman a special rate. "By the way," said S. Behrman to his superintendent, "we're in luck. Fallon's buyer was in Bonneville yesterday. He's buying for Fallon and for Holt, too. I happened to run into him, and I've sold a ship load." "A ship load!" "Of Los Muertos wheat.
It rested for a moment upon his bandaged foot propped comfortably upon Fallon's bunk, directly beneath his own, and strayed to the floor where just under its edge, still wrapped in the soiled newspaper, sat the gallon jug that Fallon suggested in case the greener saw fit to heed his warning. Bill smiled dreamily.
The trouble culminated in Dr. Fallon's impressing the wagons of Wing, Kelly and "the widow Irish," to take fourteen men to Danbury and Fishkill to save their lives. The former impress was not resisted; but the soldiers who took the Irish team had to battle with a mob, headed by Abraham Wing and Benjamin Akin, who used the convalescent soldiers roughly, but could not prevent the seizure.
The iron latch rattled; the man entered, closed the door behind him, and, turning, faced the two with a smile. For a long moment the men gazed at the newcomer in silence; then Fallon's chair crashed backward upon the floor as the Irishman leaped to his feet. "Thim eyes!" he cried, throwing a huge arm across the man's shoulders and shaking him violently in his excitement. "Bill! Bill!
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