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Crinkett, and Mick Maggott, arousing herself quite to enthusiasm when he came to the finding of the gold. But there was not a word said the whole day as to their future combined prospects. Nor was there any more outspoken allusion to loves and darlings, or any repetition of that throwing herself into his arms. For once it was natural.
"The gun was in Rivers's shop from the time Umholtz rejuvenated it till around the first of November. Then it was sold, but he doesn't know who to. He didn't sell it himself; Rivers must have." "I assumed that; that's why he's still alive. Well, thanks, Mick. The case is getting tighter every minute." "You haven't had any trouble yet?" McKenna asked anxiously. "How's the whoozis doing?"
On the contrary, the obligation he believed himself to be under to me had so weighed upon him that he was too proud to speak until he had cleared it off, so, he apparently fancied, to be able to treat with me on level terms. Mick Donovan had not been on deck when the tragic occurrence happened; but he was almost as much impressed as myself when I told him of our shipmate's last words.
As Tom Slade went through Terrace Avenue on his way to the Temple Camp office, where he was employed, he paused beside a truck backed up against the curb in front of a certain vacant store. Upon it was a big table and wrestling with the table was Pete Connigan, the truckman the very same Pete Connigan at whom Tom used to throw rocks and whom he had called a "mick."
Then the old ladies promptly held a survey on them that declared to be more heavily buttered being awarded to Aunt Judith in recognition of her seniority. With similar fruitful topics of conversation the meal was pleasantly despatched. The turn of Dick and Mick followed thereon. Dick, the property of Aunt Judith, was a canary of thoughtful temperament.
Under these circumstances, washing decks every morning used to be a positive pleasure to everybody on board, as we careered about in our bare feet with our trousers rolled up above the knee, when the cold water, instead of being `moighty onpleasint, as Mick would have said, was gratifying in the extreme.
Bartie went up to town, and Major Cameron took Dorothy and Ronny and Vera and me and Mick to Birdlip in his dog-cart, only Mick and me had to bike because there wasn't room enough. However we grabbed the chains behind and the dog-cart pulled us up the hills like anything, and we could talk to Dorothy and Ronny without having to yell at each other. He did us jolly well at tea afterwards.
"We'll teach them a trick or two before they do that," urged Mick. "Where are you, Miss Harriet?" "I'm at Wiggins and Webster's, sir." "Where they clean machinery during meal-time; that won't do," said Mick. "I see one of your partners coming in," said Mick, making many signals to a person who very soon joined them. "Well, Devilsdust, how are you?"
This allusion to the `Jaunty' silenced the incorrigible Larrikins for the nonce; though he sniggered at Mick saying `downstairs' instead of below, as most landsmen do when new to board-ship life. The next moment, however, Master Larrikins was at it again, trying to `take a rise out of me, Mick having thus discouraged his advances in that direction.
A hand, almost the hand of a gentleman, went instinctively to the gaunt throat of the ignored gambler and jerked at the close flannel shirt; then without a word the owner got unsteadily to his feet and followed an irregular trail toward the interested spectator at the bar. "Have a drink with me, pard," said the gambler, as he regarded the immovable Mick. "Two whiskeys, there!"
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