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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Tim O'Rooney, I fears yez are lacking in the iliments which go to make up a mon of sense. Why didn't yez think of this when it would have done yez more good?" When he was yet within a few yards of shore, he looked back and was not a little frightened to see that the savages had launched a canoe and were coming across the river with the speed of the swallow.
Tim O'Rooney peered cautiously into the lodge before trusting himself within it, but seeing nothing alarming, he stepped briskly forward, and was followed by the two boys and Terror.
"Yis, if it's bist." And just in that exclamation Tim O'Rooney echoed the sentiments of his companion. Ever since leaving the range of hills, with the resolve to hurry away in search of help, the question had been constantly rising in his mind: "Is it best to do so?"
The boys noticed as they came along, and while Tim O'Rooney was speaking, that several of the men looked very keenly at them, as though they entertained some strong suspicion. Finally one of the men asked: "Are you youngsters named Lawrence and Brandon?" "Yes, sir." Here the questioner produced a paper from his pocket, and seemed to read his questions from that.
"That is plaisant," muttered the Irishman, as he saw the animal fall, "and yez hav the distinguished honor of baing the first deer that Tim O'Rooney brought down; but yez ain't the first he fired at but whist, Tim, don't be telling your secrets, for somebody else might larn them." He now began making his way carefully down the gorge in order to ascend upon the opposite side and secure his prize.
Shasta, adieu!" said Tim O'Rooney, with considerable feeling. "You've done us a good turn and we'll not forget you. If yez ever drifts into San Francisco, give us a call." The Indian motioned to them to proceed, and using his paddle with his extraordinary skill, he sped up the river toward the camp-fire, and in a very short time vanished.
Mounted upon the fleetest of prairie rangers, it would not require long to reach the open country, when he could speed away homeward. But to do this required the abandonment of his friend, Mickey O'Rooney, who would not have been within the cavern at that minute but for his efforts to rescue him from the same prison.
At this instant Tim O'Rooney came opposite them. He merely glanced up, puffed harder than ever and was passing on, when both burst out in a loud laugh. "Be the powers! what's the mather with ye spalpeens?" he angrily demanded. "Can't a dacent man be passing the sthrats widout being insulted Howly mother! is it yerselves or is it your grandfathers?"
At noon they made a hearty meal upon a portion of what still remained of the mountain sheep, and then stretched themselves out for an hour's rest. Tim O'Rooney was plentifully supplied with tobacco, and perhaps could not have felt more comfortable or satisfied with his situation. He lolled on the grass, and wondered whether Mr.
Shortly after this occurrence it began to grow dark above, but the cause was obvious. The day was drawing to a close. Darkness, only less profound than that within the cave below, was enwrapping the surface above. As soon as the night had fairly descended, Mickey O'Rooney, handling a small torch with great care, made his way once more to the puzzling outlet of the underground stream.
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