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Harrigan," he said, "I'm honored by knowing you." Harrigan stared and accepted the hand with caution; there was still battle in his eyes. "And can you send me over?" he asked doubtfully. "I can. As I said before, we've raised a small fund for just this purpose." He drew out a piece of paper and commenced taking down the particulars of Harrigan's name and birth and other details.
"Sure you didn't, but if you think you can treat me like a swine and get away with it " It was wonderful to see the eyes of McTee grow small. They seemed to retreat until they became points of light shining from the deep shadow of his brow. They were met by the cold, incurious light of Harrigan's stare. "You're a hard man, Harrigan."
He disappeared. And hard upon his going Steve wheeled and fronted those scores of silent men. His eyes leaped from point to point, as Harrigan's had craftily flitted. Briefly, crisply, he accompanied the sweeping survey with a voice that was loud enough for all of them to hear. "Big Louie! . . . Fallon! . . . Shayne!
"God!" screamed McTee, and gripped Harrigan's wrists, but the Irishman heaved him up and beat his head against the deck. McTee's jaws fell open, and a bloody froth bubbled to his lips; his eyes thrust out hideously. "Ah-h!" snarled Harrigan, and shifted his grip lower, his thumbs digging relentlessly into the great throat. This time the giant limbs of the captain relaxed as if in sleep.
But don't waste it, for God's sake; we have to work hard to make it, and if we don't see results, you'll get no more out of us. Don't you see how that is, man? And how it weighs on us, worse even then the fear that maybe we'll lose our poor salaries though you might refuse to believe anything so good of us? You don't need to talk to me like I was Peter Harrigan's son.
"Sure he's dead to the world," said a more distant voice. "After the day he must have put in with Campbell, he won't wake up till he's dragged out. I know!" "Lift his foot and let it drop," advised another. "If you can do that to a man without waking him, you know he's not going to be waked up by any talkin'." Harrigan's foot was immediately raised and dropped.
"I'm not going to call you a sentimental fool. Only, let me ask you one plain question. What do you think you can do for these people?" "I think I can help to win decent conditions for them." "Good God!" cried Edward; he sighed, in his agony of exasperation. "In Peter Harrigan's mines!
There was a catch in the laugh which followed, but Harrigan's ear was not trained for these subtleties of sound, "How are you making out?" "I'm getting acclimated. Where's the colonel to-night? He ought to be around here somewhere." "I left him a few moments ago." "When you see him again, send him in. He's a live one, and I like to hear him talk."
He would have fallen overboard had he not kept his grip on that wrist, and as he reached the perilous edge, the other man jerked back to free his arm. He succeeded, but the effort checked the slide of Harrigan's great body, and the next instant the Irishman was on his feet. He drove at the elusive figure with his balled fist, but the other ducked beneath the blow and fled down the ladder.
Little rivulets ran down Courtlandt's arm, raised as it was against the bars. "I do not see how it may concern me," replied Herr Rosen finally with an insolence more marked than Courtlandt's. "In Paris we met one night, at the stage entrance of the Opera, I pushed you aside, not knowing who you were. You had offered your services; the door of Miss Harrigan's limousine." "It was you?" scowling.
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