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Updated: June 3, 2025
"All right, then," said Haw-Haw. "Jest one more." And he poured a glass to the brim, waved it gracefully towards the others without spilling a drop, and downed it at a gulp. "Ben in town long?" he asked. "Not long enough to find any action," answered the other. The eye of Haw-Haw Langley brightened. He looked over the two carefully.
There is a wonderful communion between any two in time of crisis; and when Haw-Haw Langley disappeared through the rain it was to Mac Strann as it was to Patroclus when Apollo struck the base of his neck and his armour of proof fell from him.
"'Sorry, Effie, old girl, puts in Butler, so sassy I'd love to have preached his fun'ral sermon. 'Too bad, but fust love's strongest, you know. Susie and me was engaged long afore you come to town. "THEN such a haw-haw and whoop bust from the kitchen and fo'castle as you never heard. For a jiffy poor Effie wilted right down. Then she braced up and her black eyes snapped.
His small hammer sounded above their talk, the tar-barrels, wood-stacks and old house-walls that they had burnt, and their drinking and merriment until they had not a penny left, haw-haw! The hammer rang above it all. Jan Peter had gone in a boat over to the islands, and seen so many bonfires, both there and on the hills round, that it was impossible to count them. Yes, when a fellow's drunk!
This affording his jaws all the present occupation they seemed capable of undertaking, the other resumed when the haw-haw that met the sally had subsided: "Yes, it takes two to make a hangin', just like it takes two to make a weddin', and you can't allus say just sartin which one has the lucky end."
"Ain't he got to see his way?" asked Mac Strann, and lowered his glance once more to the dead man. As for Haw-Haw Langley, he made a long, gliding step back towards the door, and his beady eyes opened in terror; yet a deadly fascination drew him back again beside the bed. Mac Strann said: "Kind of looks like Jerry was ridin' the home trail, Haw-Haw. See the way he's smilin'?"
"Are you goin' to steal the hoss?" "Steal him? He couldn't carry me two mile, a skinny hoss like that. But if Barry ever gets away agin on that hoss I ain't never goin' to catch him. That hoss has got to die." Haw-Haw Langley caught his breath with a harsh gurgle.
By that brief glow Mac Strann looked up and down the wall. The match burned out against the calloused tips of his fingers. "That wall," mused Strann, "ain't made out of the same timber as the side of the barn. That wall is whole years newer. Haw-Haw, that ain't the end of the barn. They's a holler space beyond it." He lighted another match, and then cursed softly in delight. "Look!" he commanded.
There would be a gale before morning. It suited his mood. He struck across the park, but instead of making for the haw-haw, he turned into Cheiron's little gate. He wanted understanding company, he wanted to talk cynical philosophy, and he wanted the stimulus of his old master's biting wit.
Right down the length of the barn they passed until they reached a wall at the farther end. "He ain't here," sighed Haw-Haw, with relief. "Mac, if I was you, I'd wait till they was light before I went huntin' that wolf." "He ought to be here," growled Mac Strann, and lighted a match. The flame spurted in a blinding flash from the head of the match and then settled down into a steady yellow glow.
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