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It was more than likely that when the sun rose not a body would be anywhere in sight. Even the warrior who had run him so hard, only to succumb to the rifle of Ballyhoo Gleeson, would not be forgotten by his former comrades. Advancing with the utmost caution, he heard a rustling in the bush in front.
In the turmoil of rejoicing that ensued, even the shadows cast by the glow of happiness on the previous evening were forgotten, though it was, after all, only their own money which Tony had won back for them. Everybody wished to toast everybody, and in their anxiety to carry out the wish, they failed to notice that Gleeson quietly withdrew.
Once he remarked to himself, half-audibly: "I must confer with Father Gleeson. He would suggest the necessary details." Thus did he go, smiling and occasionally laughing to himself as some particularly amusing aspect of that which he was considering struck him. So pleasant was his face that a man whom he met paused to ask the direction to a certain street that he well knew.
There'll be none left for us to go for if you don't ease up a bit." "That's fair, boys; that's fair," Palmer Billy exclaimed. "It's your go next; I'll stand by while you have your go." "But what have you left for us?" Tony asked, as he let go Palmer Billy's arm. Gleeson, very much bruised and dishevelled, lay on the broad of his back, breathing heavily.
Gleeson and Walker both uttered exclamations as they saw the bare forks and ridge-pole of the tent-frame, but the men behind did not pay any heed.
The picks that had been driven in the ground were lying on the other side of the creek. The Creekers, convinced individually that they had effectually disposed of Gleeson, stood for a few moments, forgetful of the blows and bruises they had received in the scuffle, as they saw their victim standing unharmed before them.
Philip's first impulse was to take out his revolver, and shoot; but he was always conscientious, and it occurred to him that he would be committing a breach of trust, as he had undertaken to guard the game alive until Gleeson came back with the cart. So he tried to fight the pig with his boots, kicking him on the jaws right and left.
Arriving on the ground at the last moment, he was obliged to run several rods before reaching his horse; but he did it quickly, and, turning his head toward the bush, dashed after his companions and was almost upon their heels. "You're my game!" exclaimed Gleeson, banging away with his revolver at him, but, so far as he could see, without effect.
All are taking expulsion except Corrigan, Athy answered. He's going to be flogged by Mr Gleeson. I know why, Cecil Thunder said. He is right and the other fellows are wrong because a flogging wears off after a bit but a fellow that has been expelled from college is known all his life on account of it. Besides Gleeson won't flog him hard. It's best of his play not to, Fleming said.
There was so much noise and confusion that Gleeson could not hear clearly, but something caused him to turn his head, under the impression that he detected a movement near at hand. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of the Comanche, darting through the bush in a direction almost the opposite of that which he had been following so long.
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