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"Better still, why not make it 1945? Then we could speed up to the point where we could polish ourselves off. What have you got?" Balt Haer said, his face in sulk, "Some of my lads based in West Hurley report concentrations of Cogswell's infantry and artillery near Ashokan reservoir." "Nonsense," somebody snapped. "We'd have him."
At other times she walked up the long line of quays sentineling the Liffey, watching the swift boats of Guinness puffing down the river and the thousands of sea-gulls hovering above or swimming on the dark waters, until she came to the Phoenix Park, where there was always a cricket or football match being played, or some young men or girls playing hurley, or children playing tip-and-tig, running after one another, and dancing and screaming in the sunshine.
Hayne had in the world was this one younger sister, who six years before had married a manly, energetic fellow, a civil engineer in the employ of an Eastern railway. During Hayne's "mountain-station" exile Hurley had brought his wife to Denver, where far better prospects awaited him.
The cans could no more froth with the white reaming milk without this accompaniment of slaps and adjurations than Speckly, Flecky, and the rest could take their slow, thoughtfully considerate, and sober way from the hill pastures into the yard without Meg at the gate of the field to cry: "Hurley, Hurley, hie awa' hame!" to the cows themselves; and "Come awa' bye wi' them, fetch them, Roger!" to the short-haired collie, who knew so much better than to go near their flashing heels.
Hurley passed each of them with a careless glance within. At the end of the corridor, in obscurity, was the door of the tank-room. "What's this?" he asked abruptly. And he knocked nonchalantly on the door of the tank-room. Audrey was acutely alarmed lest Jane Foley should respond, thinking the knock was that of a friend.
All through the discussion one could easily see the passionate desire of the man to bring this bloody thing of war honourably to an end. Mr. Edward N. Hurley furnishes me with a characteristic anecdote connected with a session of the War Conference Board, which Mr. Hurley calls "one of the most historic conferences ever held at the White House." "The question," says Mr.
"Will you excuse me for a minute or two while I show these gentlemen the house?" The fact was that she did not care just then to be left alone with Madame Piriac. "Oh! I beg you, darling! "Madame Piriac granted the permission with overpowering sweetness. The procedure of Mr. Hurley was astonishing to Audrey; nay, it was unnerving.
Hurley was acting as deputy for sheriff John Poe, together with Jim Brent, when the desperado Arragon was holed up in an adobe and refused to surrender. The Mexican shot Hurley as he carelessly crossed an open space directly in front of the door. Hurley was brown-haired and blue-eyed; a very pleasant fellow.
"Well, Mr Hurley," said the Captain, as the boatswain stroked down his hair, as a mark of respect, when he entered the cabin, "are the cots all finished?" "All finished, your honour, and slung, except the one for the babby. Had not I better get a piece of duck for that?" "No, no number seven will do as well; Mrs C wants some fearnought, to put down in the entrance hall." "Yes, your honour."
After the voice of Diaz there was a sway through the room, a pulse of silence, and then three hands shot for their hips Pierre, Diaz, and Hurley. No stop-watch could have caught the differing lengths of time which each required for the draw. The muzzle of Hurley's revolver was not clear of the holster the gun of Diaz was nearly at the level when Pierre's weapon exploded at his hip.
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