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Updated: May 20, 2025
In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and musketry exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's stripe, went out in a troopship and joined Her Majesty's Royal Loyal Musketeers, commonly known as the 'Mavericks, because they were masterless and unbranded cattle-sons of small farmers in County Clare, shoeless vagabonds of Kerry, herders of Bally-vegan, much wanted 'moonlighters' from the bare rainy headlands of the south coast, officered by O'Mores, Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and the like.
Mulcahy tore on, sobbing; the straight-held blade went home through the defenceless breast, and the body pitched forward almost before a shot from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer and still further hurried the Afghan retreat. The two Irishmen went out to bring in their dead. 'He was given the point and that was an easy death, said Horse Egan, viewing the corpse.
Mulcahy must see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so far, talkin' powers of darkness. 'Did you hear anything of a regimental court-martial among the Black Boneens, these days? Half a company of 'em took one of the new draft an' hanged him by his arms with a tent-rope from a third story verandah. They gave no reason for so doin', but he was half dead.
At even the Mavericks might have been mistaken for mutineers by one so unversed in their natures as Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' school might have learned deportment from them.
The knock in itself, indeed, is of such force and volume as to strike terror into the bravest heart. It is it must be the Mulcahy! And Mrs. Mulcahy it is! Without waiting for an answer, that virtuous Irishwoman, clad in righteous indignation and a snuff-colored gown, marches into the room. "May I ask, Mr. Curzon," says she, with great dignity and more temper, "what may be the meanin' of all this?"
A carman who drove me to Castleconnel proved the most interesting politician since Dennis Mulcahy, of Carrignaheela. He knew all about the average English voter, and resented his superior influence in Irish affairs. "Shure, we're all undher the thumb o' a set o' black men that lives undher the bowils o' the airth.
"Come in, Denis," said the priest to his nephew, "you may both come in. Mrs. Mulcahy, speak to your mother: let us try every remedy that might possibly bring her to a sense of her awful state." "Is she raving still?" inquired the daughter, whose eyes were red with weeping.
"I am not taking her away to I I am taking her to my sister, who will receive her as a guest." "Mad!" repeats Mrs. Mulcahy furiously. "Who's mad? Faix," preparing to leave the room, "'tis yerself was born widout a grain o' sinse!" The meeting between Lady Baring and Perpetua is eminently satisfactory.
My theory, which I fully believe to have been the right one, was that the lonely creature sometimes felt an irresistible longing for human companionship. The belief currently held regarding Mulcahy was to the effect that he had been a noted "road agent" that is to say, a highway robber in California.
"And what," said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some conversation on the eternal subject, "are you going to do to me, Dan?" This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a weak spirit. "You'll see," said Dan grimly, turning over in his cot, "or I rather shud say you'll not see." This was hardly the language of a weak spirit. Mulcahy shook under the bed-clothes.
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