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"By me sowl, I'll get yous the box, and ax yous only the price meself pays for 't," replied Pat, touched at the idea of a reward, which between friends seemed base even to his rude mind. "And I shall want your help, too." "Yous may well count on that, for whin did a Fegan desart his frind? But tell me, honey, what yous mane to do wid it." "I intend to get to Cincinnati in it."
But here is another friend," said Uncle Nathan, as he perceived Pat Fegan, who had for some time been watching an opportunity to speak to him. "Sure, the naiger would like to spake wid yous," said Pat, in a whisper. "What's the matter, Pat?" asked Henry.
On the night of the explosion of the Chalmetta's boiler, Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan had saved their lives by jumping overboard, and had been picked up by the Flatfoot. The true-hearted New Englander had made a diligent search for the parties who had intrusted the will in his keeping, but without success.
I asked, seeing no one. "It's me, Pat Nolan, then," answered the ragged little urchin, creeping from under the bush. "May be he's not far off just now, with that thief of the world, Dan Fegan, and one or two others looking out for ye." I was half inclined to go on in spite of Pat's warning. "Why should I be afraid of those Irish chaps?" I thought to myself.
"Doomed to a death by starvation, with my wife, in yonder jail, by his malice, I have just effected my escape. My wife is nearly dead, but I hope to restore her with these fruits." "Good Heavens! who would have thought there was such a monster upon the airth?" "By the powers!" ejaculated Pat Fegan. "Can't we help you?" asked Uncle Nathan. "Perhaps you can.
Pat Fegan was without means, and readily accepted the hospitality which Hatchie offered to pay for. In the course of the long conversations with which the two friends beguiled the weary day, Pat related his adventures in Mexico, at the close of which he casually mentioned that the remains of several officers, who died there, were to be conveyed up the river.
It was arranged that Henry should watch in the vicinity of Emily's state-room, while Uncle Nathan, Hatchie and Pat Fegan, should occupy the lower deck. Emily was not to be informed of the danger; it would distress her to no purpose. They had no doubt of their ability to protect her. Accustomed as Henry was to danger, perhaps he did not fully appreciate that which was now gathering around Emily.
"O, ho!" thought Uncle Nathan, "I guess the black feller didn't know that, or he would have given the papers to him;" and he resolved to inform Hatchie of Henry's presence. Descending, he soon discovered Pat Fegan, and, by his help, was enabled to hold a conference with Hatchie, who, now that it was daylight, talked through a crevice in his box.
Dalhousie and his wife, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, entered the room. Jaspar fixed his glaring eyes upon those whom he supposed were rotting within the precincts of his Inquisition. His power of speech seemed to have deserted him, and he shook all over like an aspen-leaf. To Jaspar alone on the estate was the secret of Dalhousie's imprisonment known.
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