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Updated: June 16, 2025


To various hooks and studs on the helmet and breast-plate are hung two leaden masses weighing about forty pounds each. These weights having been attached, and a waist-belt with a knife in it put round Rooney's waist, along with the life-line, the air-tube was affixed, and he was asked by Baldwin how he felt.

One fine May morning a long time after Hanrahan had left Margaret Rooney's house, he was walking the road near Collooney, and the sound of the birds singing in the bushes that were white with blossom set him singing as he went. It was to his own little place he was going, that was no more than a cabin, but that pleased him well.

Third place, my dear FELL' CIT'Z'NS, if yer'll jess step in ter Phil Rooney's 'fore ye vote, yer'll find some whi-i-sky there; and that that's bess arg'ment, after all."

Oh ma cushla astore, forgive me! It's a gorilla I thought ye was, sure, for I hadn't time to look, d'ee see. It's wishin' you had staved in my timbers intirely I am." Rooney's exclamations were here cut short, and turned on another theme by the sudden appearance of Aileen Hazlit, who soon found that her friend was more alarmed than hurt.

Of course the Chinaman did not mention to his new allies the original use for which the coppers were intended, as such candour on his part might have led to his getting into "hot water" and so spoilt his little plot, the complete success of which was further assured by his purloining Tim Rooney's private bottle of rum from his cabin in the deck-house, and bestowing it with his benediction on the stalwart Portuguese captain of the pirates.

Really, I quite astonished Tom by climbing up the futtock shrouds outside the top, instead of going through "the lubber's hole," showing myself, thanks to Tim Rooney's private instructions previously, much more nimble in casting off the gaskets and loosening the bunt of the sail than my brother mid expected; indeed, I got off the yard, after the job was done, and down to the deck a good half minute in advance of him.

"It's pleasure ye call it; then there's no accountin' for tastes, as Dr. Colles said, when he saw me bite Cusack Rooney's thumb off." "Bite a man's thumb off!" said I, in a horror. "Ay," said he with a kind of fiendish animation, "in one chop; I wish you'd see how I scattered the consultation; begad they didn't wait to ax for a fee."

"Why, Doctor Doctor Finucane," cried I, "is this possible? were you really the inside in the mail last night." "Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to ask, were you the outside?" "Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney's thumb eh?"

"Maybe not; Pete don't talk much, except to the old man." "Lemme get at him," said a third voice. "Beat it down to Rooney's. I'm going up with Pete and get what he knows." And, as Ronicky turned onto the next flight of the stairway, he was overtaken by hurrying feet. The other two had already scurried down toward the front door of the house.

It was on Rooney's account that McCloud's order banishing cuspidors from his office had been rescinded. A few evenings of agony on the despatcher's part when in consultation with his chief, the mournful wandering of his uncomplaining eyes, his struggle to raise an obstinate window before he could answer a question, would have moved a heart harder than McCloud's.

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