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"Pat Rooney said he'd have it ready by the time I come back." "Pat Rooney!" exclaimed the eight voices, in varying tones of amazement and disapproval; even Mrs. McNally's sounding forth a deep note of wondering concern. "Pat Rooney, child! What brings him into the house at this time o' th' mornin'? What brings him here at all to-day indeed?"
McNally's house was situated at the extreme end of the village, and looked not upon the street, but right out into the glen, so that when Elleney opened her attic window in the morning her blue eyes feasted on a wilderness of trees, exquisite at this season with an infinite variety of tints; for the tender bloom of an Irish spring is only surpassed in beauty by the glories of an Irish autumn.
"If there is anything of a mix-up such a thing would be likely enough to happen. He's young enough and cocky enough to get hurt quite naturally." Then Porter spoke quickly, for he read the unsaid meaning in the words. "That's going too far. I want the road, but not that way." McNally's drooping lids quivered, but otherwise his face was expressionless.
That told Harvey just what he wanted to know, and slowly turning he began crawling back. But before he had gone very far, he heard a sound which suggested possibilities. It was the wheezing of his own engine at the other end of the curve. Now that he stopped to think, he realized that it must have been perfectly audible to McNally's party.
There's a deal on, and Frederick McNally is the other party. He's for C. & S.C. of course. Do you know him?" Bridge shook his head. "Well, never mind. I'll watch him. But you worry Blaney. He's a little rattled now, I reckon McNally's soaked him, and if you're careful you ought to find out something. I want to know just how they've fixed it." Bridge nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him."
He's got as good a story inside him as any man in the United States this morning, but it would take a chemical process to get it out of him." Jim was in his room at the Hotel Tremain, trying to decide upon the best way to bring Blaney to terms. The most direct course would be to go to Blaney and try to convince him of the worthlessness of McNally's contract.
Personally, I should like to do so, Miss Katherine; I honestly admire your independence, and I believe that you might even be able to suggest some helpful ideas, but business does not concern itself with the personal equation." Katherine looked thoughtfully at McNally's shadowed face. She was a little surprised with herself that she should so persist, but it did not occur to her to stop.
McNally's upper lip drew away from his teeth as he heard it, but he spoke quietly. "They've got us bluffed down, haven't they? But I guess it's about time we called them. They'll be pretty careful not to hit anybody with those guns of theirs. Have the men come through to the rear of the train and get off from this platform where they'll be screened by the curve.
It was midnight when Jim Weeks reached Tillman City. The next morning at breakfast he recognized Mr. McNally, and though he nodded pleasantly, his thoughts were not the most amicable. He knew that McNally meant mischief, and he also knew that McNally's mischief could be accomplished only through one man, Michael Blaney. Heretofore Blaney had not troubled Jim.
He took up her cloak and threw it over her shoulders, and kissed her. "Good night. I'll come along by and by." "If you don't, I'll come back after you." Without waiting to hear her father's dissent, which she knew would follow this declaration, she fled from the room and down the steps to her carriage. As she settled herself among the robes and cushions she heard McNally's voice:
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