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Updated: June 28, 2025
Thrice during the hot afternoon had Feeny scouted the premises and striven to find what number and manner of men Moreno might have in concealment there. Questioning was of little use. Moreno was ready to answer to anything, and was never known to halt at a lie.
Feeny took the glistening, nickel-plated Smith & Wessen, clicked the hammer to the safety-notch, tested the cylinder springs, and, touching the lever, showed his superior by the feel rather than sight how the perfect mechanism was made to turn on its hinge and thrust the emptied shells from their chamber.
"Yes; but stop one moment now, and look at this note. Is it your son's writing?" And Plummer produced the crumpled page while Feeny held the light. Feverishly Harvey examined the scrawl, his hand trembling so hard he could not steady the paper. "It is like enough," he moaned. "It was written in such mad haste. My horse!" he cried, "and you come with me, George.
How dare you dhrink when there was fight ahead? Hware's your despatches? and may heaven blast the souls of you both!" "Here, sergeant," said Murphy, wrenching the soiled envelope from the loose grasp of the prostrate trooper. "It's to you, sir," said Feeny, with one glance at the sprawling superscription. "In God's name read and let us know what devil's work's abroad to-night."
They stood in a long row, and Henry Clay, pointing, began at the top and gave each child a word like this: "Eeny, meany, miny, mo; Cracky, feeny, finy fo; Ommer neutcha, popper teucha; Rick, bick, ban, do. "Oner-ry, oer-ry, ickery Ann; Phyllis and Phollis and Nicholas John; Queevy quavy, English Navy, Stinklum, stanklum, BUCK."
With rush and thunder of hoofs a band of horsemen came tearing up to the spot just as Feeny reached their leader, reached him and went down to earth, stunned, senseless from a crashing blow, even as Ned Harvey, his legs jerked from under him by the sudden clip of rawhide lariat, was dragged at racing speed out over the plain, bumping over stick and stone, tearing through cactus, screaming with rage and pain, until finally battered into oblivion, the last sound that fell upon his ear was the shriek of agony from his sisters' lips, telling him they were struggling in the rude grasp of reckless and infuriated men.
Then came a moment of consultation as to which of Harvey's men would be best suited for the onerous post opposite the enemy's door, and then a sudden and breathless silence. "Listen!" whispered Feeny. "That's a signal. Hist! you'll hear it again presently." Grasping their rifles with nervous hands, the five men stood huddling in a little group at the west end of the low, flat building.
And then, as though the whole thing had been planned beforehand, out in the darkness to the north Feeny's voice was heard in low-toned but sharp command, "Patrol, halt! Close up there, Kennedy. Where are you, Number Five?" And so, cool and confident as though he had a dozen troopers at his back, Feeny came striding up to the spot. "What's the matter, sentry?
Cracky feeny finy fo! and God looking in a little book to see if he got all the words right." "Anyway, I'm glad you weren't baptised, after what Father said to-day." "You'll be gladder still when you get out there where they got a full-grown man's God."
Stern was their rule, rude their speech, but by officers and men alike they were trusted and respected. As for Feeny, there were not lacking those who declared him spoiled. Twice that day had the paymaster been on the point of rebuking his apparent indifference. Twice had he withheld his censure, knowing, after all, Feeny to be in the right and himself in the wrong.
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