Brian, "there's such a sight of ships comin' and goin' between this and the States, wouldn't you think that agin now they'd ha' got a kind of track line, crossin' over, as if it was a manner of road they was follyin' that nothin's apt to happen them on, and not sthrayin' about permisc-yis in the storms?" "Thrack?" said Ody, shrilly.

Not bein' on th' thrail, betune us an' yu', means he's either beat ut shtraight south from yu're place an' over th' ice tu th' railway-thrack, or west a piece, an' thin onto th' thrack. Yu'll niver find a hobo far away from th' line. He'd niver go thrapsein' thru' th' snow tu th' high ground beyant. Yuh cud shpot him plain for miles doin' that comin' along."

Four Christyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I've seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan was standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray.

Without disturbing the sleeping Jackson, Gallagher got down and crept cautiously out to the break. It was a break. He stooped and felt the rail ends with his hands. When he straightened up his passenger was standing beside him. "What is it?" asked Adair. "Have we lost something?" Gallagher waved a grimy hand at the gap. "The thrack," he said.

Och, it 'ud be the pity o' thim that 'ud do anything to vex or anger that man. Why, his very look 'ud wither thim, till there wouldn't be the thrack* o' thim on the earth; an' as for his curse, why it 'ud scorch thim to ashes!" * Track, foot-mark, put for life As it was generally known that Father Philip was to visit Mrs.

Gallagher snatched his cap from his fiery head. "Could we make room? 'Tis by the blessing av the saints that I'm a little man, meself, Missis Foord, and don't take up much room in the c-yab. And as f'r Johnny Shovel, he'll be riding on the coal f'r the pure playsure av ut. My duty to ye, ma'am; and 'tis a pity ut isn't a black night, whin the swate face av ye would be lighting the thrack f'r us."

Well, whin I first knew O'Leary he wurruked down on a railroad section tampin' th' thrack at wan-fifty a day. He was a sthrong, willin' young fellow, with a stiff right-hand punch an' a schamin' brain, an' anny wan cud see that he was intinded to go to th' fr-ront. Th' aristocracy iv th' camp was Mrs. Cassidy, th' widdy lady that kept th' boordin'-house.

'So I'll thank ye to be off, he says, 'or I'll take th' thick end iv the slung-shot to ye, he says. "Th' Fr-rinchman is a br-rave man, an' he'd stay an' have it out on th' flure; but some wan calls, 'A base th' Chinnyman! an' off he goes on another thrack. An', whin he gets to th' Chinnymen, he finds th' English've abased thim already.

'A counthry that has no railroads is beneath contimpt, he says. 'Casey, he says,'sthretch th' chain acrost yon graveyard, he says. 'I aim f'r to put th' thrack just befure that large tombstone marked Riquiescat in Pace, James H. Chung-a-lung, he says. 'But, says I, 'ye will disturb pah's bones, says I, 'if ye go to layin' ties, I says.

In silence they retraced their steps and eventually reached their horses. Here the sergeant issued curt orders to his men. "'Tis onlikely th' shtiff can have got very far away in th' toime Mr. Gully tells us," he said, "an' he cannot shtay out in th' opin for long this weather. Get yu're harses over th' ice, bhoys, an' make th' thrack. Ye'll find an' openin' in th' fence somewheres.