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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a5f684 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60445 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60445) diff --git a/old/60445-0.txt b/old/60445-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 028b9a7..0000000 --- a/old/60445-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8847 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jim and Wally, by Mary Grant Bruce - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Jim and Wally - -Author: Mary Grant Bruce - -Release Date: October 7, 2019 [EBook #60445] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIM AND WALLY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - - - - - - - [Cover Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: “‘Hold tight to the rail,’ Jim’s voice said in Nora’s -ear.” (Page 67.)] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Frontispiece_ - - - - - JIM AND WALLY - - - - By - MARY GRANT BRUCE - Author of “Mates at Billabong,” “Norah of Billabong,” etc. - - W A R D , L O C K & C O . , L I M I T E D - LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO - 1917 - - - - - _To_ - _G. E. B.,_ - - _Cork, 1915-16_ - - - - - CONTENTS - - CHAP. PAGE - I WAR..................................... 9 - II YELLOW ENVELOPES........................ 30 - III WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME................. 43 - IV TO IRELAND.............................. 53 - V INTO DONEGAL............................ 74 - VI OF LITTLE BROWN TROUT................... 98 - VII LOUGH ANOOR............................. 113 - VIII JOHN O’NEILL............................ 131 - IX PINS AND PORK........................... 147 - X THE ROCK OF DOON........................ 161 - XI NORTHWARD............................... 183 - XII ASS-CART _VERSUS_ MOTOR................. 197 - XIII THE CAVE AMONG THE ROCKS................ 213 - XIV A FAMILY MATTER......................... 229 - XV PLANS OF CAMPAIGN....................... 242 - XVI THE FIGHT IN THE DAWN................... 248 - - - - - CHAPTER I - WAR - - - “For one the laurel, one the rose, and glory for them all, - All the gallant gentlemen who fight and laugh and fall.” - MARGERY RUTH BETTS. - -THE trench wound a sinuous way through the sodden Flanders mud. -Underfoot were boards; and then sandbags; and then more boards, added as -the mud rose up and swallowed all that was put down upon it. Some of the -last-added boards had almost disappeared, ground out of sight by the -trampling feet of hundreds of men: a new battalion had relieved, three -nights before, the men who had held that part of the line for a week, -and when a relief arrives, a trench becomes uncomfortably filled, and -the ground underfoot is churned into deep glue. It was more than time to -put down another floor; to which the only objection was that no more -flooring material was available, and had there been, no one had time to -fetch it. - -It was the second trench. Beyond it was another, occupied by British -soldiers: beyond that again, a mass of tangled barbed-wire, and then the -strip of No-Man’s Land dividing the two armies—a strip ploughed up by -shells and scarred with craters formed by the bursting of high -explosives. Here and there lay rifles, and spiked German helmets, and -khaki caps; but no living thing was visible save the cheeky Flemish -sparrows that hopped about the quiet space, chirping and twittering as -if trying to convince themselves and everybody else that War was -hundreds of miles away. The sparrows carried out this pleasant deception -every morning, abandoning the attempt as soon as the first German gun -began what the British soldiers, disagreeably interrupted in frying -bacon, termed “the breakfast hate.” Then they retreated precipitately to -the sparrow equivalent to a dug-out, to meditate in justifiable -annoyance on the curious ways of men. - -In the second trench the men were weary and heavy-eyed, and even bacon -had scant attractions for them. It was their first experience of -trench-life complicated by shell-fire, and since their arrival the enemy -had been “hating” with a vigour that seemed to argue on his part a -peculiar sourness of temper. Now, after two days of incessant artillery -din and three nights of the strenuous toil that falls upon the trenches -with darkness, the new men bore evidence of exhaustion. Casualties had -been few, considering the violent nature of the bombardment; but to -those who had never before seen Death come suddenly, an even slighter -loss would have been horrifying. The ceaseless nerve-shattering roar of -the big guns pounded in their brains long after darkness had put an end -to the bombardment; their brief snatches of sleep were haunted by the -white faces of the comrades with whom they would laugh and fight and -work no more. They were stiff and sore with crouching under the parapets -and in the narrow dug-outs; dazed with noise, sullen with the anger of -men who have been forced to endure without making any effort to hit -back. But their faces had hardened under the test. A few were shrinking, -“jumpy,” useless: but the majority had stiffened into men. When the time -for hitting back came, they would be ready. - -Dawn on the fourth morning found them weary enough, but, on the whole, -in better condition than they had been two days earlier. They were -getting used to it; and even to artillery bombardment “custom hath made -a property of easiness.” The first sense of imminent personal danger had -faded with each hour that found most of them still alive. Discipline and -routine, making each officer and man merely part of one great machine, -steadied them into familiar ways, even in that unfamiliar setting. And -above all was satisfaction that after months of slow training on -barrack-square and peaceful English fields they were at last in the -middle of the real thing—doing their bit. It had been conveyed to them -that they were considered to be shaping none too badly: a curt -testimonial, which, passing down the line, had lent energy to a hard -night of rebuilding parapets, mending barbed-wire, and cleaning up -battered sections of trench. They were almost too tired to eat. But the -morning—so far—was peaceful; the sunlight was cheery, the clean breeze -refreshing. Possibly to-day might find the Hun grown weary of hating so -noisily. There were worse things than even a trench in Flanders on a -bright April morning. - -Jim Linton sat on a small box outside his dug-out, drinking enormous -quantities of tea, and making a less enthusiastic attempt to demolish -the contents of an imperfectly heated tin of bully beef. He was -bare-headed, owing to the fact that a portion of shrapnel had removed -his cap the day before, luckily without damaging the head inside it. Mud -plastered him from neck to heels. He was a huge boy, well over six feet, -broad-shouldered and powerful; and the bronze which the sun of his -native Australia had put into his face had been proof against the trench -experiences that had whitened English cheeks, less deeply tanned. - -Another second lieutenant came hastily round a traverse and tripped over -his feet. - -“There’s an awful lot of you in a trench!” said the new-comer, -recovering himself. - -“Sorry,” said Jim. “I can’t find any other place to put them; they -_will_ stick out. Never mind, the mud will bury them soon; it swallows -them if I forget to move them every two minutes. Come and have -breakfast.” - -“I want oceans of tea,” said Wally Meadows, dragging a biscuit-tin from -the dug-out, perching it precariously on a small board island in the -mud, and seating himself with caution. He glanced with disfavour at the -beef-tin. “Is that good?” - -“Beastly,” Jim answered laconically. “Smith’s strong point is not -cookery. It’s faintly warm and exceedingly tough; and something with -moisture in it seems to have happened to the biscuits. But the tea is -topping. I told Smith to bring another supply presently. Bacon’s a bit -short, so I said we preferred bully.” - -Wally accepted a tin mug of milkless tea with gratitude. - -“That’s great,” he said, after a beatific pause, putting down the empty -mug. He pushed his cap back from his tired young face, and heaved a -great sigh of relief. “Blessings on whoever discovered tea! I don’t -think I’ll have any beef, thanks.” - -“Yes, you will,” Jim said, firmly. “I know it’s beastly, and one isn’t -hungry, but it’s a fool game not to eat. If we have any luck there may -be some work to-day; and you can’t fight if you don’t eat something. The -first mouthful is the worst.” - -His chum took the beef-tin meekly. - -“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “If we only do get a chance of -fighting, I should think we’d have enormous appetites afterwards; but -one can’t get hungry hiding in this beastly hole and letting Brother -Boche sling his tin cans at us. Wouldn’t you give something for a bath -and twelve hours’ sleep?” - -“By Jove, yes!” Jim agreed. “But I don’t mind postponing them if only we -get a smack at those gentry across the way first. Did you see -Anstruther?” - -“Yes—he’s better. He dodged the R.A.M.C. men—said he wasn’t going to -be carted back because of a knock on the head. He’s tied up freshly and -looks awfully interesting, but he declares he’s quite fit.” - -Captain Anstruther was the company commander, a veteran of -one-and-twenty, with eight months’ service. The two Australian boys, -nineteen and eighteen respectively, and fully conscious of their own -limitations, regarded him with great respect in his official capacity, -and, off duty, had clearly demonstrated their ability to dispose of him, -with the gloves on, within three rounds. They were exceedingly good -friends. Anstruther could tell stories of the Marne, of the retreat from -Mons, of the amazing tangle of the first weeks of war, which had left -him, then a second lieutenant, in sole command of the remnant of his -battalion. To the two Australians he was a mine of splendid information. -They were mildly puzzled at what he demanded in return—bush “yarns” of -their own country, stories of cattle musterings, of aboriginals, of -sheep-shearing by machinery, of bush-fire fighting; even of football as -played at their school in Melbourne. To them these things, interesting -enough in peacetime and in their own setting, were commonplace and stale -in the trenches, with Europe ablaze with battle all round them. -Anstruther, however, looked on war with an eye that saw little of -romance: willing to see it through, but with no illusions as to its -attractions. He greatly preferred to talk of bush-fires, which he had -not seen. - -Yesterday a shell which had wrecked far too much of a section of trench -to be at all comfortable had provided this disillusioned warrior with a -means of escape, had he so wished, by knocking him senseless, with a -severe scalp-wound. Counselled to seek the dressing-station at the rear, -when he had recovered his senses, however, he had flatly declined; all -his boredom lost in annoyance at his aching head, and a wild desire to -obtain enemy scalps in vengeance. Jim and Wally had administered -first-aid with field dressings, and the wounded one, declaring himself -immediately cured, had hidden himself and his bandages from any -intrusive senior who might be hard-hearted enough to insist on his -retirement. - -“It was a near thing,” Jim said reflectively. - -“So was yours,” stated his chum. - -“Oh—my old cap?—a miss is as good as a mile,” said Jim. “I’m glad it -wasn’t a bit nearer, though; it would be a bore to be put out of -business without ever having seen a German, let alone finding out which -of us could ‘get his fist in fust.’” He rose, feeling for his pipe. -“Have you eaten your whack of that stuff?” - -“I’ve done my best,” said Wally, displaying the tin, nearly empty. -“Can’t manage any more. Let’s have a walk along the trench and see -what’s happening.” - -“Well, keep your silly head down,” Jim said. “The parapet is getting -more and more uneven, and you never remember you’re six feet.” - -Wally grinned. Each of the friends suffered under the belief that he was -extremely careful and the other destined to sudden death from -unwittingly exposing himself to a German sniper. - -“If you followed your own advice, grandmother,” he said; “you being -three inches taller, and six times more careless! I always told your -father and Norah that you’d be an awful responsibility.” - -“I’ll put you under arrest if you’re not civil,” Jim threatened. “Small -boys aren’t allowed to be impertinent on active service!” - -They floundered along in the mud, ducking whenever the parapet was low: -sandbags had run short, and trench-repairing on the previous night had -been like making bricks without straw. The men were finishing breakfast, -keeping close to the dug-outs, since at any moment the first German -shell might scream overhead. The line was very thin; reinforcements, -badly enough wanted, were reported to be coming up. Meanwhile the -battalion could only hope that the shells would continue to spare them, -and that when the enemy came the numbers would be sufficiently even to -enable them to put up a good fight. - -Captain Anstruther, white-faced under a bandage that showed red stains, -nodded to them cheerily. - -“Ripping morning, isn’t it?” he said. “Hope you’ve had a pleasant night, -Linton!” - -Jim grinned, glancing at his hands, which displayed numerous long red -scars. - -“One’s nights here are first-class training for the career of a burglar -later on,” he said. “Mending barbed-wire in the dark is full of -unexpected happenings, chiefly unpleasant. I don’t mind the actual -mending so much as having to lie flat on one’s face in the mud when a -star-shell comes along.” - -“Very disorganizing to work,” said another subaltern, Blake, whose -mud-plastered uniform showed that he had had his share of lying flat. In -private life Blake had belonged to the species “nut,” and had been wont -to parade in Bond Street in beautiful raiment. Here, dirty, unshaven and -scarcely distinguishable from the muddiest of his platoon, he permitted -himself a cheerfulness that Bond Street had never seen. - -“Sit down,” Anstruther said. “There are more or less dry sandbags, and -business is slack. Why didn’t you fellows come down to mess? Have you -had any breakfast?” - -“Yes, thanks,” Jim answered. “We fed up there—our men were inclined to -give breakfast a miss, so we encouraged them to eat by feeding largely, -among them. Nothing like exciting a feeling of competition.” - -“Trenches under fire don’t breed good healthy appetites—at any rate -until you’re used to them,” Blake remarked. - -“The men are bucking up well, all the same,” said Anstruther. “I’m jolly -proud of them; it’s a tough breaking-in for fellows who aren’t much more -than recruits. They’re steadying down better than I could have hoped -they would.” - -“Doesn’t the weary old barrack-square grind stand to them now!” said -Jim. “They see it, too, themselves; only they’re very keen to put all -the bayonet-exercise into practice. Smith, my servant, was the mildest -little man you ever saw, at home; now he spends most of the day putting -a bloodthirsty edge on his bayonet, and I catch him in corners prodding -the air and looking an awful Berserk. They’re all chirping up -wonderfully this morning, bless ’em. I shouldn’t wonder if by this time -to-morrow they were regarding it all as a picnic!” - -“So it is, if you look at it the right way,” said Blake. “Lots of jokes -about, too. Did you hear what one of our airmen gave the enemy on April -the First? He flew over a crowd behind their lines, and dropped a -football. It fell slowly, and Brother Boche took to cover like a rabbit, -from all directions. Then it struck the ground and bounced wildly, -finally settling to rest: I suppose they thought it was a delay-action -fuse, for they laid low for a long time before they dared believe it was -not going to explode. So they came out from their shelters to examine -it, and found written on it ‘April fool—_Gott strafe England_!’” - -His hearers gave way to mirth. - -“Good man!” said Anstruther. “But there are lots of mad wags among the -flying people. I should think it must make ’em extraordinarily cheerful -always to be cutting about in nice clean air, where there isn’t any -barbed-wire or mud.” - -Feeling grunts came from the others. - -“Rather!” said Garrett, another veteran of eight months’ service. “There -was one poor chap who had engine-trouble when he was doing a lone -reconnaissance, and had to come down behind the German lines. He worked -furiously, and just got his machine in going order, when two enemy -officers trotted up, armed with revolvers, and took him prisoner. Then -they thought it would be a bright idea to make him take _them_ on a -reconnaissance over the Allied lines; which design they explained to him -in broken English and with a fine display of their portable artillery, -making him understand that if he didn’t obey he’d be shot forthwith.” - -“But he didn’t!” Wally burst out. - -“Just you wait, young Australia—you’re an awful fire-eater!” said the -narrator. “The airman thought it over, and came to the conclusion that -it would be a pity to waste his valuable life; so he gave in meekly, -climbed in, and took his passengers aboard. They went off very gaily, -and he gave them a first-rate view of all they wanted to see; and, of -course, carrying our colours, he could fly much lower than any German -machine could have gone in safety. It was jam for the two Boches; I -guess they felt their Iron Crosses sprouting. Their joy only ended—and -then it ended suddenly—when he looped the loop!” - -The audience jumped. - -“What happened?” - -“They very naturally fell out.” - -“And the airman?” Wally asked, ecstatically. - -“He had taken the precaution to strap himself in—unobtrusively. Didn’t -I tell you he appreciated his valuable life?” said Garrett, laughing. -“He came down neatly where he wanted to, made his report, and sent out a -party to give decent burial to two very dead amateur aviators. The force -of gravity is an excellent thing to back you up in a tight place, isn’t -it?” - -“Well, it’s something to get one’s chance—and it’s quite another to -know when to take advantage of it,” said Anstruther. “I expect an airman -has to learn to make up his mind quicker than most of us. But there’s no -doubt of the chances that come to some people. A Staff officer was here -early this morning, and he was telling me of young Goujon.” - -“Who’s he?” queried Blake, lazily. - -“He’s a French kid—just seventeen. He was one of a small party sent out -to locate some enemy machine-guns that were giving a good deal of -trouble. They found ’em, all right; but when they were wriggling their -way back a shell came along and wiped out the entire crowd—all except -this Goujon kid. He was untouched, and he hid for hours in the crater -made by the explosion of the shell. When it got dark he crept out: but -by that time he was pretty mad, and instead of getting home, he wanted -to get a bit of his own back, and what must he do but crawl to those -machine-guns and lob bombs on them!” - -“That’s some kid,” said Blake briefly. - -“Yes, he was, rather. He destroyed two of the three guns, and then was -overpowered—_that_ wouldn’t have taken long!—and made prisoner: pretty -roughly handled, too. But before he could be sent to the rear, some of -our chaps made a little night-attack on that bit of German trench, and -in the excitement Goujon got away. So he trotted home—but on the way he -stopped, and gathered up the remaining machine-gun. Staggered into his -own lines with it. They’ve given him the Military Medal.” - -“Deserved it, too,” was the comment. - -“And he’s seventeen!” said some one. “He ought to get pretty high up -before the war is over.” - -“I know a man who’s a major at nineteen,” Anstruther said, “Went out as -a second lieutenant and was promoted for gallantry at Mons; got his -captaincy and was wounded at the Aisne; recovered, and at Neuve Chapelle -was the sole officer left, except two very junior subalterns, in all his -battalion. He handled it in action, brought them out brilliantly—awful -corner it was, too,—and was in command for a fortnight after, before -they could find a senior man; there weren’t any to spare. He was -gazetted major last week.” - -“Lucky dog!” said Blake. - -“Well, I suppose he is. They say he’s a genius at soldiering, anyhow; -and, of course, he got his chance. There must be hundreds of men who -would do as well if they ever got it; only opportunity doesn’t come -their way.” - -“They say this will be a war for young men,” Garrett said. “We’re going -back to old days; I believe Wellington and Napoleon were colonels at -twenty. And that’s more than you will be, young Meadows, if you don’t -mend your ways.” - -“I never expected to be,” said Wally, thus attacked. - -“But why won’t I, anyhow, apart from obvious reasons?” - -“Because you’ll be a neat little corpse,” said Garrett. “What’s this -game of yours I hear about?—crawling round on No-Man’s Land at night, -and collecting little souvenirs? The souvenir you’ll certainly collect -will come from a machine-gun.” - -Wally blushed. - -“Well, there are such a jolly lot of things there,” he defended himself. -“Boche helmets—I’ve got three beauties—and belts, and buckles, and -things. People at home like ’em.” - -“Presumably people at home like you,” Anstruther said. “But they -certainly won’t have you to like if you do it, and it’s possible their -affection might even wane for a German helmet that had cost you your -scalp. _Verboten_, Meadows; that’s good German, at any rate. -Understand?” - -Wally assented meekly. Jim Linton, apparently sublimely unconscious of -the conversation, sighed with relief. His chum’s adventurous expeditions -had caused him no little anxiety, especially as they were undertaken at -a time when his own duties prevented his keeping an eye on the younger -boy—which would probably have ended in his accompanying him. From -childhood, Jim and Wally had been accustomed to do things in pairs: a -habit which had persisted even to sending them together from Australia -to join the Army, since Wally was too young for the Australian forces. -England was willing to take boys of seventeen; therefore it was -manifestly out of the question that Jim should join anywhere but in -England, despite his nineteen years. And as Jim’s father and sister were -also willing to come to England, the matter had arranged itself as a -family affair. Wally Meadows was an orphan, and the Linton family had -long included him on a permanent, if informal, basis. - -“It’s jolly to get V.C.’s and medals and other ironmongery,” Anstruther -was saying; “but I’d like to be the chap who organized the Toy Band on -the retreat from Mons. He was a Staff officer, and he found the remains -of a regiment, several hundred strong, straggling through a village, -just dead beat. The Germans were close on their heels; the British had -no officers left, and had quite given up. The Staff chap called on them -to make another effort to save themselves, but they wouldn’t—they had -been on the run for days, were half-starved, worn out: they didn’t care -what happened to them. The officer was at his wits’ end what to do, when -his eye fell on a little bit of a shop—you know the usual French -village store, with all sorts of stuff in the window: and there he saw -some toy drums and penny whistles. He darted in and bought some: came -out and induced two or three of the less exhausted men to play -them—it’s said he piped on one penny whistle himself, only he won’t -admit it now. But you know what the tap of a drum will do on a -route-march when the men are getting tired. He roused the whole regiment -with his fourpence-worth of band and brought them back to their brigade -next day—never lost a man!” - -“Jolly good work,” said Blake. - -“He won’t get anything for it, of course,” said Anstruther. “You don’t -get medals for playing tin whistles; and anyhow, there was no one to -report it. But—yes, I’d like to have been that chap.” He rose and -stretched himself, taking advantage of a section of undamaged parapet. -“Brother Boche is rather late in beginning his hate this morning, don’t -you think?” - -“Perhaps he’s given up hating as a bad job,” Wally suggested. - -“We’ll miss the dear old thing if he really means to leave us alone,” -said Anstruther. “Just as well if he does, though: our line is painfully -thin, and it’s evident to anyone that our guns are short of ammunition: -we’re giving them about one shell to twenty of theirs. And don’t they -know it! They send us enormous doses of high-explosive shells, and in -return we tickle them feebly with a little shrapnel. They must chuckle!” - -“I suppose England will wake up and make munitions for us when we’re all -wiped out,” said Garrett, scornfully. “They’re awfully cheery over -there: theatres and restaurants packed, business as usual, bull-dog -grit, and all the rest of it: Parliament yapping happily, and strikes -twice a week. And our chaps trying to fight for ’em, and dying for want -of ammunition to do it with. I suppose they think we’re rather lazy not -to make it in our spare time!” - -“I’m afraid they won’t appoint me dictator just yet,” Blake remarked. -“If they would, I’d have every striker and slacker out here: not to -fight, but to mend barbed-wire, clean up trenches, and do the general -dirty work. First-rate tonic for a disgruntled mind. And I’d send what -was left of them to the end of the world afterwards. Will you have them -in Australia, Linton?” - -“Thanks; we’ve plenty of troubles of our own,” Jim returned hastily. -“Don’t you think we were dumping-ground for your rubbish for long -enough?” - -“You were a large, empty place, and you had to be peopled,” said Blake, -grinning. “And a good many of them were very decent people, I believe.” - -“Well, they might well be,” Jim responded—“you sent them out for -stealing a sheep or a shirt or a medicine-bottle: one poor kid of six -was sent out for life for stealing jam-tarts. Many excellent men must -have begun life by stealing jam-tarts: I did, myself!” - -“If you’re a sample of the after-effects, I don’t wonder we exported the -other criminals early,” laughed Blake. - -“Well, if any of their descendants grew into the chaps that landed at -Gallipoli the other day, they were no bad asset,” said Anstruther. “By -Jove, those fellows must be fighters, Linton! I wouldn’t care to have -the job of holding them back.” - -“I knew they’d fight,” said Jim briefly. Down in his quiet soul he was -torn between utter pride in his countrymen, and woe that he had not been -with them in that stern Gallipoli landing: the latter emotion firmly -repressed. It had been the fight of his boyish dreams—wild charging, -hand to hand work, a fleeing enemy: not like this hole-and-corner trench -existence unseen by the unseen foe, with Death that could not be -combated dropping from the sky. His old school-fellows had been at -Gallipoli, and had “made good.” He ached to have been with them. - -An orderly came up hurriedly. Anstruther tore open the note he carried. - -“There’s word of an enemy attack,” he said crisply. “Get to your -places—quick!” - -The subalterns scattered along the trench, each to his platoon. They had -already inspected the men, making sure that no detail of armament had -been forgotten, and that rifles were all in order. Garrett, who -commanded the machine-gun section, fled joyfully to the emplacement, his -face like a happy child’s. The alarm ran swiftly up and down the trench: -low, sharp words of command brought every man to his place, while the -sentries, like statues, were glued to their peep-holes. Jim and Wally -fingered their revolvers, scarcely able to realize that the time for -using them had come at last. Field officers appeared, hurriedly scanning -every detail of preparation, and giving a word of advice here and there. - -“Thank ’eving, we’re going to have a look-in!” muttered a man in front -of Jim: a grizzled sergeant with the two South African ribbons on his -breast. “Steady there, young ’Awkins; don’t go meddlin’ with that -trigger of yours. You’ll get a chanst of loosin’ off pretty soon.” - -“Cawn’t come too soon for me!” said Hawkins, in a throaty whisper, -fondling his rifle lovingly. “They got me best pal yesterday.” - -“Then keep your ’ead cool till the time comes to mention wot you think -of ’em,” returned the sergeant. - -Jim and Wally found a chink in the sandbag parapet, and looked out -eagerly ahead. All was quiet. The sparrows, made bold by the -extraordinary peace of the morning, still chirped and twittered on -No-Man’s Land. No sound came from the German trenches beyond. Here and -there a faint smoke-wreath curled lazily into the air, telling of -cooking-fires and breakfast. - -“How do they know they’re coming?” Wally whispered. - -“Aeroplane reconnaissance, I suppose,” Jim answered, pointing to two or -three specks floating in the blue overhead, far out of reach of the -anti-aircraft guns. “They’ve been hovering up there all the morning. -Feeling all right, Wal?” - -“Fit as a fiddle. I suppose I’ll be in a blue funk presently, but just -now I feel as if I were going to a picnic.” - -“So do I—and the men are keen as mustard. I thought little Wilson would -be useless; you know how jumpy he’s been since we came here. But look at -him, there; he’s as steady and cool as any sergeant. They’re good boys,” -said the subaltern, who was not yet twenty. - -“Mind your ’ead, sir!” came in an agonized whisper from a corporal -below; and Jim ducked obediently under the lee of the parapet. - -“It’s quite hot,” he said, peering again through his peep-hole. “There’s -a jolly breeze springing up, though.” - -The breeze came softly over No-Man’s Land, fluttering the wings of the -cheerful sparrows. Across the scarred strip of grass a low, green cloud -wavered upwards. It grew more solid, spreading in a dense wall over the -parapet of the German trench. - -“What on earth——?” Jim began. - -The green cloud seemed to hesitate. Then the wind freshened a little, -and it suddenly blew forward across No-Man’s Land, growing denser as it -came. Before it, the sparrows fled suddenly, darting to the upper air -with shrill chirpings of alarm. But one bird, taken unawares, beat his -wings wildly for a moment, flying forward. Then he pitched downwards and -the cloud rolled over him. - -“What is it?” uttered Wally. - -Before the parapet of the British trench ahead of them the cloud stood -for a moment, and then toppled bodily into the trench. It fell as water -falls like a heavy thing. From its green depths came hoarse shouts, and -rifles suddenly went off in an irregular fusillade. Then the cloud -rolled over, leaving the trench full of vapour, and stole towards the -second British line. - -A great cry came ringing down the trench. - -“Gas! It’s their filthy gas!” - -It was a new thing, and no one was prepared for it. Across the Channel, -England was shuddering over the first reports of the asphyxiating gas -attacks, and the women of England were working night and day at the -first half-million respirators to be sent out to the troops. But to the -men in the trenches there had come only vague rumours of what the French -and Canadians had suffered: and they had been slow to believe. It was -not easy to realize, unseeing, the full horror of that most malignant -device with which Science had blackened War. A few of the officers had -respirators—dry, and comparatively useless. The men were utterly -unprotected. Like sheep waiting for the slaughter they stood rigidly at -attention, waiting for the evil green cloud that blew towards them, -already poisoning the clean air with its noxious fumes. - -“Tie your handkerchiefs round your mouths and nostrils!” Jim Linton -shouted. “Quick, Wally!” - -He caught at the younger boy’s handkerchief and knotted it swiftly. The -corporal shook his head. - -“Most of ’em ain’t got no ’ankerchers, sir,” he said grimly. “They -_will_ clean their rifles with ’em.” - -Then came another cry. - -“Look out—they’re coming!” - -Dimly, behind the cloud of gas, they could see shadowy forms clambering -over the parapet of the enemy trench; German soldiers, unreal and -horrible in their hideous respirators, with great goggle eyes of talc. -Ahead, the quick spit of machine-guns broke out spitefully; and, as if -in answer, Garrett’s Maxims opened fire. Then the gas was upon them: -falling from above over the parapet, stealing like a live thing down the -communication trench that led from the first line, where already the -Germans were swarming. Men were choking, gasping, fighting for air; -dropping their rifles as they tore at their collars, losing their heads -altogether in the horror of the silent attack. A little way down the -trench Anstruther was trying to rally them, his voice only audible for a -few yards. Jim echoed him. - -“Come on, boys! it’s better in the open. Let’s get at them!” - -He sprang up over the parapet, Wally at his side. There were bullets -whistling all round them, but the air was more free—it was Paradise -compared to the agony of suffocation in the trench. Some of the men -followed. Jim leaped back again, dragging at others; pushing, striking, -threatening; anything to get them up above, where at least they might -die fighting, not like rats in a hole. He was voiceless, inarticulate; -he could only point upwards, and force them over the parapet and into -the bullet-swept space. Wally was there—was Wally killed? Then he saw -him beside him in the trench, dragging at little Private Wilson, who had -fallen senseless. Together they lifted him and flung him out at the -rear, turning to fight with other men who had given up and were leaning -against the walls, choking. Above them Anstruther was getting the men -into some semblance of formation to meet the oncoming rush of Germans. -He called to them sharply, authoritatively. - -“Linton!—Meadows! Come out at once!” - -Jim tried to obey. Then he saw that Wally was staggering, and flung his -arm round him; but the arm was suddenly limp and helpless, and Wally -pitched forward on his face and lay still, gasping. Jim tried to drag -him up, fighting with the powerlessness that was creeping over him. -Behind him the roar of artillery grew faint in his ears and died away, -though still he seemed to hear the steady spit of Garrett’s -machine-guns. He sagged downwards. Then black, choking darkness rushed -upon him, and he fell across the body of his friend. - - - - -[Illustration: “Jim Linton sat on a small box outside his dug-out -. . .”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page 11_ - - - - - CHAPTER II - YELLOW ENVELOPES - - - “London’s smoke hides all the stars from me, - Light from mine eyes and Heaven from my heart.” - DORA WILCOX. - -THE lift came gliding on its upward journey in a big London hotel, far -too slowly for the impatience of its only passenger, a tall girl of -sixteen, with a mop of brown curls, and grey eyes alight with -excitement. Ordinarily, Norah Linton was rather pale, especially in -London, where the air is largely composed of smoke, and has been -breathed in and out of a great number of people until it is nearly worn -out; but just now there was a scarlet spot on each cheek, and her mouth -broke into smiles as though it could not help itself. At Floor No. 4, a -fat old lady threatened to stop the lift, but decided at the last moment -that she preferred to walk upstairs. At No. 5, no one was in sight, and -Norah sighed with audible relief, and ejaculated, “Thank goodness!” At -No. 6, two men were seen hurrying along the corridor some distance away, -and shouting, “Lift!” But at this point the lift-boy, to whom Norah’s -impatience had communicated itself, behaved like Nelson when he applied -his telescope to his blind eye, and shot upwards, disregarding the -shouts of his would-be passengers; and, passing by No. 7 as though it -were not there, brought the lift to an abrupt halt at No. 8, flinging -the door open with a rattle and a triumphant, “There y’are, miss!” - -“Thank you!” said Norah, flashing at him a grateful smile that sent the -lift-boy earthwards in a state of mind that made him loftily oblivious -of the reproaches of neglected passengers. She was out of the lift with -a quick movement, and in the empty corridor broke into a run. Her flying -feet carried her swiftly to a sitting-room some distance away, and she -burst in like a whirlwind. “Dad! Daddy!” - -There was no one there, and with an exclamation of impatience she turned -and ran once more, far too excited now to care whether any Londoners -were there to be shocked at the spectacle of a daughter of Australia -racing along an hotel corridor. She had not far to go; a turn brought -her face to face with a tall man, lean and grizzled, who cast a glance -at her that took in the crumpled yellow envelope in her hand. - -No one with a soldier son looked calmly on telegrams in those days, and -David Linton’s face changed abruptly. “What is it, Norah?” - -“They’re coming,” said Norah, and suddenly found a huge lump in her -throat that would not go away. She put out a hand and clung to her -father’s coat. “They’re truly coming, daddy!” - -Her father’s voice was not as steady as usual. - -“They’re all right?” - -“Oh, yes, they must be. It says ‘Better—London to-morrow.’” - -“Better?” mused Mr. Linton. “I wonder if that means hospital or us, -Norah?” - -Norah’s face fell. - -“I suppose it may be hospital,” she said. “It was so lovely to think -they were coming that I nearly forgot that part of it. Can we find out, -daddy?” - -“We’ll go and try,” Mr. Linton said. - -“Now?” said Norah, and jigged on one foot. - -“I’ll get my hat,” said her father, departing with a step not so unlike -his daughter’s. Norah waited in the corridor for a few minutes, and -then, impatient beyond the possibility of further waiting in silence, -followed him to his room, there finding him endeavouring to remove -London mud-stains from a trouser-leg. - -“You might think when you’ve managed to brush it off that it had -gone—but indeed it hasn’t,” said David Linton, wrathfully regarding -gruesome stains and brushing them with a vigour that should have been -productive of better results. - -“It does cling,” remarked Norah, comprehendingly. “I’ll sponge it for -you, daddy; those stains never yield to mild measures. Daddy, do you -think they’ll be long getting better?” - -Anyone else might have been excused for thinking she meant the -mud-stains. But David Linton made no such mistake. - -“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “One hears such different stories about -that filthy German gas. It all depends on the size of the dose they got, -I fancy. Jim said it was mild; but then Jim would say a good deal to -avoid frightening us.” - -“And he was able to write. But Wally hasn’t written.” - -“No; and that doesn’t look well. He’s such a good lad—it’s quite likely -he’d write and let us know all he could about Jim. But I don’t fancy the -doctors would let them travel unless they were pretty well.” - -“I suppose not. Oh, doesn’t it seem ages until to-morrow, dad!” - -“It’ll come, if you give it time,” said her father. “However—yes, it -does seem a pretty long time, Norah.” They laughed at each other. - -“It doesn’t do a bit of good for you to put on that wise air,” Norah -said, “because I know exactly how you feel, and that’s just the same as -I do. And anyone would be the same who had two boys at the Front like -Jim and Wally.” - -“I think they would,” said her father, abandoning as untenable the -position of age and wisdom. “Thank goodness they will be back with us -to-morrow, at any rate.” He put his clothes-brush on the table and stood -up, tall and thin and a little grim. “It seems a long while since they -went away.” - -“Long!” Norah echoed, expressively. It was in reality only a month since -her brother Jim and his chum had said good-bye on the platform at -Victoria Station; and in some ways it seemed only a few minutes since -the train had moved slowly out, with the laughing boyish faces framed in -the window. But each slow day, with its dragging weight of anxiety, had -been a lifetime. To them had come what the whole world had learned to -know; the shiver of fear on opening the green envelopes from the Front; -the racking longing for the news; the sick dread at the sight of a -telegram—even at the sound of an unusual knock. David Linton had grown -silent and grim; Norah felt an old woman, and the care-free Australian -life which was all she had known seemed a world away—vanished as -completely as the Australian tan had faded from her cheeks. - -Now it was all over, and for a while, at any rate, they could forget. -Jim had so managed that no shock came to them—the cheery telegram he -had contrived to send before being taken to hospital had reached them -two days earlier than the curt War Office intimation that both boys were -suffering from gas-poisoning. Jim did not mean that they should ever -know what it had meant to send it. The cavalry subaltern who had helped -him along to the dressing-station had been very kind; he had contrived -to hear the address, even in the choked, strangling whisper, which was -all the voice the gas had left to Jim; had even suggested a wording that -would tell without alarming, and had put aside almost angrily Jim’s -struggle to find his money. “Don’t you worry,” he had said, “it’ll go. -I’ve seen other chaps gassed, and you’ll be all right soon.” He was a -cheery pink and white youngster: Jim was sorry he had not found out his -name. In the hard days and nights that followed, his face hovered round -his half-conscious dreams—curiously like a little lad who had fagged -for him at school in Melbourne. - -That was two weeks ago, and of those two weeks Mr. Linton and Norah -fortunately knew little. Wally had been the worst; Jim had been dragged -out of the gassed trench a few minutes earlier than his friend, and -possibly to the younger boy the shock had been greater. When the first -terrible paroxysms passed, he could only lie motionless, endeavouring to -conjure up a faint ghost of his old smile when Jim’s anxious face peered -at him from the next bed. Neither had any idea at all of how they had -reached the hospital at Boulogne; all their definite memories ended -abruptly when that evil-smelling green cloud had rolled like a wave -above them into the trench. - -Out of the first dark mist of choking suffering they had passed slowly -into comparative peace, broken now and then by recurring attacks, but, -by contrast, a very haven of tranquillity. They were very tired and -lazy: it was heavenly to lie there, quite still, and watch the blue -French sky through the window and the kind-faced nurses flitting -about—each doing far too much for her strength, but always cheery. They -did not want to talk—their voices had gone somewhere very far off; all -they wanted was just to be quiet; not to move, not to talk, not to -cough. Then, as the clean vigour of their youth reasserted itself, and -strength came back to them, energy woke once more, and with it their -old-time lively hatred of bed. They begged to be allowed to get up; and -as their places were badly needed for men worse than they, the doctors -granted their prayer—after which they would have been extremely glad to -get back again, only that pride forbade their admitting it. - -Moreover, there was London; and London, with all that it meant to them, -was worth a struggle. Two months earlier it had bored them exceedingly, -and nothing had seemed worth while, with the call in their blood to be -out in the trenches. Now, after actual experience of the trenches, their -ideas had undergone a violent change. The romance of war had faded -utterly. The Flying Corps might retain it still—those plucky fighting -men who soared and circled overhead, bright specks in the clouds and the -blue sky; but to the men who grubbed underground amid discomfort, -smells, and dirt, to which actual fighting came as a blessed relief, war -had lost all its glamour. They wanted to see the job through. But London -was coming first, and it had blossomed suddenly into a paradise. - -Some of which Jim had tried to put into his shaky pencilled notes; and -the certainty of their boys’ gladness to get back lay warm at the hearts -of Norah and her father as they walked along Piccadilly. Spring was in -the air: the Park had been full of people, the Row crowded with happy -children, scurrying up and down the tan on their ponies, with decorous -grooms endeavouring to keep them in sight. The window-boxes in the clubs -were gay with daffodils and hyacinths: the busy, knowing London sparrows -twittered noisily in the budding trees, making hurried arrangements for -setting up housekeeping in the summer. Even though war raged so close to -England, and its shadow lay on every hearth, nothing could quite dim the -gladness of London’s awakening to the Spring. - -“Those fellows all look so happy,” said Mr. Linton, indicating a -motor-car crammed with wounded men in their blue hospital suits and -scarlet ties. “One never sees a discontented face among them. I hope our -boys will look as happy, Norah.” - -“If there is any chance of looking happy, Jim and Wally will take it!” -said Norah, firmly. - -“I think they will,” said her father, laughing. “The difficulty is to -imagine them ill.” - -“Yes, isn’t it? Do you remember when those horrid Zulus battered them -about so badly in Durban, how extraordinary it was to see them both in -bed, looking pale?” - -“Well, I think it was the first time it had occurred to either of them,” -said Mr. Linton. - -“I suppose one could never realize the awful effects of the gas unless -one actually saw it,” Norah said. “But I can’t help feeling glad, if -they had to be hurt, that it was that: not wounds or—crippling.” Her -voice fell on the last word. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of Jim or -Wally being crippled.” - -“Don’t!” said her father, sharply. “Please God, they’ll come out of it -without that. And as for the gas—Jim assured us they would be all -right, but I’ll be glad when I talk to a doctor about them myself.” - -Inquiries proved disappointing. It was certain that the boys would not -be allowed to return directly to them. They would travel in hospital -trains and a hospital ship; it was difficult to say where men would be -taken, when so many, broken and helpless, were being brought to England -every day. The Victorian Agent-General was sympathetic and helpful; he -promised to find out all that could be found from the overworked -authorities, and to let them know at the earliest possible moment. - -“But I fancy that long son of yours will find a way of letting you know -himself, Mr. Linton,” he said. “I’ll do my best—but I wouldn’t mind -betting he gets ahead of me.” - -They came out of the building that is a kind of oasis in London to all -homesick Victorians, pausing, as they always did, to look at the -exhibits in the outer office—wool and wheat and timber, big model gold -nuggets, and the shining fruits that spoke of the orchards on the -hillsides at home; with pictures of wide pastures where sleek cattle -stood in the knee-high grass, or reapers and binders whirred through -splendid crops. It was a little patch of Australia, planted in the very -heart of London; hard to realize that just outside the swinging glass -doors the grey city—history suddenly become a live thing—stretched -away eastward, and, to the west, the roaring Strand carried its mighty -burden of traffic. - -“I’ll always be glad I had the chance of seeing London,” said Norah. -“But whenever I come here I know how glad I’ll be to go back!” - -“I know that without coming here,” said her father, drily. “It would be -jolly if we could take those boys home to get strong, Norah.” - -“To Billabong?” said Norah, wistfully. “Oh-h! But we’ll do it some day, -daddy.” - -“I trust so. Won’t there be a scene when we get back!” - -“Oh, I dream about it!” said Norah. “And I wake up all homesick. Can’t -you picture Brownie, dad!—she’ll have cooked everything any of us ever -liked, and the house will be shining from top to bottom, and there won’t -be a thing different—I know she dusts your old pipes and Jim’s -stockwhips herself every day! And Murty will have the horses jumping out -of their skins with fitness, and Lee Wing’s garden will be something -marvellous.” - -“And Billy,” said David Linton, laughing. “Can’t you see his black -face—and his grin!” - -“Oh, and the great wide paddocks—the view from the verandah, across the -lagoon and looking right over the plains! I don’t seem to have looked at -anything far away since we came off the ship,” said Norah; “all the -views are shut in by houses, and the air is so thick one couldn’t see -far, in any case!” - -“They tell me there’s clear air in Ireland,” said her father. - -“Then I want to go there,” responded his daughter, promptly. - -“Well—we might do worse than that. I’ve been thinking a good deal, -Norah; if the boys don’t get well quickly—and I believe few of the -gassed men do—we shall have to take them away somewhere for a change.” - -“Certainly,” agreed Norah. “We couldn’t keep them in London.” - -“No, of course not. Country air and not too many people; that is the -kind of tonic our boys will want. What would you think of going to -Ireland?” - -Norah drew a long breath of delight. - -“Oh-h!” she said. “You do make the most beautiful plans, daddy! We’ve -always wanted to go there more than anywhere: and war wouldn’t seem so -near to us there, and we could try to make the boys forget gas and -trenches and shells and all sorts of horrors.” - -“That’s just it,” said her father. “The wisest doctor I ever knew used -to say that change of environment was worth far more than change of air; -we might try to manage both for them, Norah. Donegal was your mother’s -country: I’ve been meaning to go there. She loved it till the day she -died.” - -In the tumult of the Strand Norah slipped a hand into her father’s. Very -seldom did he speak of the one who was always in his memory: the little -mother who had grown tired, and had slipped out of life when Norah was a -baby. - -“Let’s go there, daddy,” she begged. - -“We’ll consult the boys,” said Mr. Linton. “Eh, but it’s good to think -we shall have them to consult with to-morrow! You know, Norah, since Jim -left school, I’ve become so used to consulting him on all points, that I -feel a lost old man without him.” - -“You’ll never be old!” said his daughter, indignantly. “But Jim just -loves you to talk to him the way you do,—I know he does, only, of -course, he’s quite unable to say so.” - -“Jim has lots of sense,” said Jim’s father. “So has Wally, for that -matter: there is plenty of shrewdness hidden somewhere in that -feather-pate of his. They’re very reliable boys. I was ‘thinking back’ -the other night, and I don’t remember ever having been really angry with -Jim in my life.” - -“I should think not!” said Norah, regarding him with wide eyes of -amazement. “Why would you be angry with him?” - -“Why, I don’t know,” said her father rather helplessly. “Jim never was a -pattern sort of boy.” - -“No, but he had sense,” said Norah. She began to laugh. “Oh, I don’t -know how it is,” she said. “We’ve all been mates always: and mates don’t -get angry with each other, or they wouldn’t be mates.” - -“I suppose that’s it,” Mr. Linton said, accepting this comprehensive -description of a bush family standpoint. “There’s a ’bus that will go -our way, Norah: I’ve had enough of elbowing my way through this crowd.” - -They climbed on top of the motor-’bus, and found the front seat empty; -and when Norah was on the front seat of a ’bus she always felt that it -was her own private equipage and that she owned London. To their left -was the huge yard of Charing Cross Station, crowded with taxis and cabs -and private motors, with streams of foot passengers pouring in and out -of the gateways. At Charing Cross one may see in five minutes more -foreigners than one meets in many hours in other parts of London, and -this was especially the case since the outbreak of war. Homesick Belgian -refugees were wont to stray there, to watch the stream of passengers -from the incoming Continental trains, hoping against hope that they -might see some familiar face. There were soldiers of many nations; -unfamiliar uniforms were dotted throughout the crowd, besides the khaki -that coloured every London street. Even from the ’bus-top could be heard -snatches of talk in many languages—save only one often heard in former -days: German. A string of recruits, each wearing the King’s ribbon, -swung into the station under a smart recruiting sergeant: a cheery -little band, apparently relieved that the plunge had at last been taken, -and that they were about to shoulder their share of the nation’s work. - -“Not a straight pair of shoulders among the lot,” remarked Mr. Linton, -surveying them critically. “It’s pleasant to think that very soon they -will be almost as well set up as that fellow in the lead. War is going -to do a big work in straightening English shoulders—morally and -physically.” - -The ’bus gave a violent jerk, after the manner of ’buses in starting, -and moved on through the crowded street, threading its way in and out of -the traffic in the most amazing fashion—finding room to squeeze its -huge bulk through chinks that looked small for a donkey-cart to pass, -and showing an agility in dodging that would have done credit to a hare. -It rocked on its triumphal way westward: past the crouching stone lions -in Trafalgar Square, where the plinth of the Nelson Column blazed with -recruiting posters; past the “Orient” offices, with their big pictures -of Australian-going steamers—which made Norah sigh; and so up to -Piccadilly Circus, where they found themselves packed into a jam of -traffic so tight that it seemed that it could never disentangle. But -presently it melted away, and they went on round the stately curve of -Regent Street, with its glittering shops; and so home to the -hotel—where they had lived so long that it really seemed almost -home—and to their own sitting-room, gay with daffodils and primroses, -and littered with work. Norah’s knitting—khaki socks and mufflers—lay -here and there, and there was a pile of finished articles awaiting -dispatch to the Red Cross headquarters in the morning. Under the window, -a big, workmanlike deal table was littered with scraps of wood, -curiously fashioned, with tools in a neat rack. It was David Linton’s -workshop; all the time he could spare from helping with wounded soldiers -went to the fashioning of splints and crutches for the hospitals, where -so many were needed every day. - -A yellow envelope was on the table now, lying across a splint. - -“Duke of Clarence Hospital,” it said; “to-morrow afternoon.—JIM.” - - - - -[Illustration: “She put out a hand and clung to her father’s coat.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page 31_ - - - - - CHAPTER III - WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME - - - “Oh! the spring is here again, and all the ways are fair. - The wattle-blossom’s out again, and do you know it there?” - MARGERY RUTH BETTS. - -‟THEY’RE doing quite well,” the doctor said, patting Norah benevolently -on the shoulder. He was a plump little man, always busy, always in a -hurry; but David Linton and his daughter had been regular visitors to -the hospital for some time, and he had a regard for them. (“Sensible -people,” he was wont to say, approvingly: “they don’t talk too much to -patients, and they don’t fuss!”) Now he knew that war had hit them -personally, and he gave them two of his few spare minutes. “They’re -tired, of course; and you must expect to see them looking queer. Gas -isn’t a beautifier. But they’ll be all right. Don’t stay too long. Don’t -talk war, if you can keep them off it. And above all, don’t speak about -gas.” He smiled at them both. “Buck them up, Miss Norah—buck them up!” -Some one called him hurriedly, and he fled. The khaki ambulances had -delivered a heavy load at the hospital that day. - -In a little room off a quiet corridor, the scent of golden wattle flung -a breath of Australia to greet them, as it had greeted the tired boys -when the orderlies had carried them in hours before. Jim and Wally -smiled at them from their pillows. No one seemed able to say anything. -Afterwards, Norah had a dim idea that she had kissed Wally as well as -Jim. It did not appear to matter greatly. - -They were white-faced boys, with black shadows under their eyes; but the -old merriment was there. A great wave of relief swept over Norah and her -father. They had feared they knew not what from this evil choking enemy: -it was sudden happiness to see that their boys were not so unlike their -old selves. - -“We had visions of being up to meet you,” said Jim, keeping a hand on -Norah’s, as she perched on his bed. “But the doctor thought otherwise. -Doctors are awful tyrants.” - -“You had a good crossing?” David Linton found words hard—they stuck in -his throat as he looked at his son. - -“Oh yes. We didn’t know much about it. The hospital train runs you -almost on to the ship, and the orderlies have you in a swinging cot -before you know where you are. Same at the other side: those fellows do -know their job,” Jim said, admiringly. “Of course, you get a little -tired of being handled, towards the finish, and this room—and -bed—seemed awfully good.” - -“And the wattle was ripping,” said Wally. “However did you manage to get -it?” - -“It comes from the South of France,” Norah answered. “There’s quite a -lot of it in London; only they stare at you if you ask for ‘wattle’, and -you have to learn to say ‘mimosa.’ One gets broken into anything. I’ve -learned to say ‘field’ quite naturally when I’m talking of a paddock.” - -“I wish Murty could hear you,” said Wally solemnly. Murty O’Toole was -head stockman on Billabong, the home in Australia. He was a very great -friend. - -“Can’t you picture his face!” Norah uttered. “It would be interesting to -watch Murty’s expression if dad told him to bring in the cattle from the -field when he wanted the bullocks mustered in the home-paddock!” - -“He’d give me notice,” said Mr. Linton, firmly. “Neither long service -nor affection would keep him!” - -“Well, Murty was born in Ireland, though he did come out to Australia -when he was a small boy,” Norah said. “So he ought not to feel -astonished. But the person I do want to import to England is black -Billy. It’s part of Billy’s principles not to show amazement at -anything, but I don’t think they’d be proof against a block of traffic -in Piccadilly!” - -“He’d only say, ‘Plenty!’” said Jim, laughing—“that is, if he had any -speech left. Poor old Billy, he hates everything but horses, and any -motor is a ‘devil-wagon’ to him. A fleet of big red and yellow ’buses -would give him nervous prostration.” - -“There’s one thing that would scare him more,” Mr. Linton said. “Do you -remember the day last winter when we took Norah to Hampton Court, and -you chucked a stone at the Round Pond?” He laughed, and every one -followed his example. - -“And the stone ran along tinkling over the top of the water,” said -Norah, recovering. “I never was so taken aback in my life. And all the -small children and their nursemaids laughed at me. How was I to know -water turned to ice like that? The only frozen thing I had ever seen was -ice-cream in Melbourne!” - -“Billy never saw ice in his life,” said her father. “He would have -thought it very bad magic.” - -“He’d have taken to his heels and made for the bush,” said Wally, -grinning. “Probably he’d have made himself a boomerang and turned into -an up-to-date black Robin Hood, living on those tame old Bushy Park -deer.” - -“With his headquarters in the Hampton Court Maze!” added Jim. “Wouldn’t -it have been an enormous attraction—the halfpenny papers would have -called it ‘Wild Life in Quiet Places,’ and London would have run special -motor-bus trips to see our Billy!” - -His laugh ended in a fit of coughing, which left him trembling. Norah -patted him anxiously, watching him with troubled eyes. - -“Don’t you talk too much, or we’ll get sent away,” she warned him. -“We’ll do the talking—dad and I. We’ve heaps to tell you: and such -jolly plans.” - -“You have to make haste and get better,” said Mr. Linton, looking from -one white face to the other. “Then we’re going to take possession of -you.” - -“Kitchener will do that, I guess,” said Wally. - -“No, Kitchener won—not until you’re quite fit. You’ll be handed over to -us, and it will be our job to get you thoroughly well. And Norah and I -have agreed that it can’t be done in London.” - -“So we’re all going to Ireland,” said Norah, happily. - -“Ireland!” Jim uttered. - -“Yes. You’re sure to get leave, so that you can be thoroughly repaired. -We’re going to find some jolly place in Donegal, where it’s quiet and -peaceful, and we’re all going to buy rods and find out how to catch -trout. Brown trout,” said Norah, learnedly. “We know all about it, -because we bought ever so many guide-books and studied them all last -night.” - -“I say!” ejaculated both patients as one man. - -“It sounds rather like Heaven,” said Jim, drawing a long breath. “Do you -really think it can be managed, dad?” - -“I don’t see why not,” said his father. - -“We must get back to our job as soon as we can.” - -“Certainly you must. But there’s no sense in your going back until you -are perfectly fit. They wouldn’t want you. And though you were not as -badly gassed as many—thank goodness!—and your recovery won’t be such a -trying matter as if you had had a bigger dose, every one agrees that gas -takes its time.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder,” Jim said, grimly. - -“That being so, London does not strike me as a good place for -convalescents,” said Mr. Linton. “Pure air is what you’ll need; and that -is not the fine, solid, grey variety of atmosphere you get here. And -Zeppelins will be happening along freely, once they feel at home on the -track to England. I don’t believe they will limit their raids to London. -The big manufacturing towns will come in for a share of their attention -sooner or later; and they won’t spare the country places over which they -fly.” - -“Not they!” said Wally. - -“So, all things considered, I think you would be better in Ireland. I -believe it’s peaceful there, if you don’t talk politics. We don’t want -any adventures.” - -“We’ve had quite enough since we left Billabong,” said Norah. - -“Hear, hear!” said Wally. “I guess the calm peace of a bog in Ireland is -just about our form until we’re ready to go back and take our turn at -strafing.” - -“Then that’s settled—if the doctors will back me up,” Mr. Linton said. -“Just as soon as they will let you we’ll pack up the fewest possible -clothes and set out for a sleepy holiday in Ireland: trout-fishing, old -ruins, bogs, heather, and no adventures at all.” - -Later on, they were to recall this peaceful forecast with amazement. At -present it seemed a dream of everything the heart could desire; they -fell into a happy discussion of ways and means, of the best places to -buy fishing-tackle, of the clothes demanded by bogs and heathery -mountains; until a nurse arrived with tea, and a warning word that the -patients had talked nearly enough. At which the patients waxed -indignant, declaring that their visitors had only been with them about -ten minutes. - -“Ten minutes!” said the nurse, round-eyed. “Over an hour—and doctor’s -orders were——” - -“Never you mind the doctor’s orders,” Jim said solemnly. “Doctors don’t -know everything. Why, in Boulogne——” He broke off, assuming an air of -meek unconsciousness of debate as the doctor himself appeared suddenly. - -“I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, transfixing patients with an eagle -glance, while the nurse made an unobtrusive escape. “You were saying -something about doctors, I think?” - -“Nothing, I assure you, sir,” said Jim, grinning widely. - -“Doctors—and Boulogne,” repeated the new-comer, firmly. “Don’t let me -interrupt you.” - -“No, sir. Certainly not,” said Jim. “The doctors in Boulogne are very -hard-worked.” - -“H’m!” said his medical attendant, receiving this piece of information -with the suspicion it merited. “Quite so. We’re all hard-worked, these -times, chiefly with looking after bad boys who ought to be back at -school, getting swished. It’s an awful fate for a respectable M.D.” He -gazed severely at the cheerful faces on the pillows. “You ought to be -asleep; and of course you are not. Is this a hospital ward, or an -Australian picnic?” - -“Both,” said Wally, laughing. “Don’t be rough on us, doctor; it isn’t -every day we kill a pig!” - -The doctor stared. - -“You put things pleasantly!” he said. “It seems to me that the pigs were -trying to kill you: but you’re all extraordinarily cheerful about it. -Now, where’s Miss Norah gone? I never saw such a girl—she moves like -quicksilver!” - -Norah returned, bearing a spare cup. - -“Do have some tea, doctor,” she begged. - -“I haven’t time, but I will,” said the doctor, abandoning professional -cares, and sitting down. “One’s life is all topsy-turvy nowadays. A year -ago I would not have dreamed of having tea in a patient’s bedroom—let -alone two patients—but then, a year ago I was practising in Harley -Street, developing a sweet, bedside manner and the figure of an -alderman. Today I’m a semi-military hack, with no manner at all, and my -patients chaff me—actually chaff me, Miss Norah! It’s very distressing -to one’s inherited notions.” - -“It must be,” said Norah, deeply sympathetic. “The cake is quite good, -doctor.” - -“It is,” agreed the doctor, accepting some. “Occasionally I find a -pompous old colonel or brigadier among my patients, and we exchange -soothing confidences about the terrible future of the medical profession -and the Army. That helps; but then I come back to the long procession of -the foolish subalterns who go out to Flanders without ever having -learned to dodge!” His eye twinkled as he glared at Jim and Wally. -Norah, whose visits to wounded soldiers during many weeks had taught her -something beyond his reputation as the most skilful and most merciful of -surgeons, listened unmoved and offered him more tea. - -“It’s no good trying to impress you!” said the doctor, surrendering his -cup. “Thank you, I will have some more—in pure kindness of heart -towards you, Miss Norah, since, when I leave this room, all visitors go -with me!” - -“Oh!” said Norah. “I’ll get some fresh tea, doctor!” - -“You will not,” said the doctor, severely. “The picnic is nearly at an -end: you can have another to-morrow, if you’re good.” - -“When can we remove the patients, doctor?” asked Mr. Linton, who had -been sitting in amused silence. A great contentment had settled on his -face: already the lines of anxiety were smoothed away. He did not want -to talk; it was sufficient to sit and watch Jim, occasionally meeting -his eyes with a half-smile. - -“Remove the patients—Good gracious!” ejaculated the doctor. “Why -they’ve only just been removed once! Can’t you let them settle down a -little?” - -“We want to take them to Ireland,” said Norah, eagerly. “Can we, -doctor?” - -“H’m,” said the doctor, reflectively. “There might be worse plans. We’ll -see. Ireland: that’s the place where the motto is, ‘When you see a head, -hit it!’ isn’t it?” - -“I don’t think it’s universal,” said Mr. Linton mildly. “It’s really -much more peaceful than English legends would lead you to believe.” - -“Between you and me, what the average Englishmen knows of Ireland might, -I believe, he put into one’s eye without inconvenience,” affirmed the -doctor. “I’m a Scot, and I don’t mind admitting I don’t know anything. -But no Englishman tells an Irish story without making his speakers say -‘Bedad!’ and ‘Begorra!’ in turn: and I’ve known a heap of Irishmen, and -their conversation was singularly free from those remarks. I have an -inward conviction that the English-made Irishman doesn’t exist; only I -never have time to verify any of my inward convictions. And perhaps -that’s as well, because then they never lose weight! Have I drunk all -the tea, Miss Norah?” - -“I’m afraid so,” said Norah, tilting the teapot regretfully and without -success. “Do let me get you some more. I know quite well where they make -it.” - -“Go to!” said the doctor, rising. “Don’t tempt an honest man from the -path of duty. I’m off—and I give you three minutes. Then the patients -are to compose themselves to slumber.” - -“And Ireland, doctor?” - -“Ireland?” said the doctor, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, there’s lots of -time to think about that distressful country.” He relented a little, -looking at the eager faces. “Very possibly. We’ll re-open the discussion -this day week. Three minutes, mind. Good-bye.” His quick steps died away -along the corridor. - -Half an hour later Wally wriggled on his pillow. - -“Asleep, Jim?” - -“No—not quite.” - -“D’you know something? Your people were here quite a while. And they -never said one word about gas or war or any silly rot like that!” - -“No,” said Jim, drowsily. “Bricks, weren’t they? Go to sleep.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - TO IRELAND - - - “Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, - Hills of home.” - R. L. STEVENSON. - -HOLYHEAD pier was in the state of wild turmoil that seethes between the -arrival of the mail and its transhipping to the Dublin boat. Passengers -ran hither and thither, distractedly seeking luggage, while stolid -English porters lent a deaf ear to their complainings or assured them -absent-mindedly that everything would be all right on the other side; an -assurance always given light-heartedly by the porter who is comfortably -certain of the fact that, whatever happens on the other side, he will -not be there. First and third class passengers mingled inextricably in -the luggage-hunt, with equal lack of success, and divided into two -streams when the whistle blew an impatient summons, seeking their -respective gangways under the guiding shouts of officials on the upper -deck. Through the crowd ploughed the mail trollies, regarding first and -third class travellers alike as mere obstructors of His Majesty’s -business, and asserting their right-of-way by sheer weight and impetus. -Overhead, a grey sky hung darkly, and was reflected in a grey, -white-flecked sea. - -It was not the usual Ireland-bound crowd of early summer. Comparatively -few women were travelling, and except for a few elderly men, there was -an entire absence of the knickerbocker-suited, tweed-capped travellers, -with golf-clubs and rod-boxes, who make a yearly pilgrimage across the -Irish Sea. Most of them were in Flanders or Gallipoli now, and khaki had -replaced the rough tweeds; many would never come again. In their stead, -khaki sprinkled the crowd thickly. A big detachment of soldiers -returning after furlough, crowded the boat for’ard. Officers in heavy -great-coats were everywhere; one chubby subaltern in charge of a -regimental band, which had been assisting in a recruiting tour in Wales. -A small group surrounded a tall old general, whose great-coat showed the -crossed sword and baton, while his gold-laced and red-banded cap made -him the object of awed glances from junior officers, who forthwith put -as much of the ship as possible between themselves and his eagle eye. - -Jim Linton and Wally Meadows were among the first out of the train. It -was Jim’s way to let a crowd disperse a little before he attempted to -reach a given point. “You get there just as quickly, and it saves an -awful lot of pushing and shoving,” he said. But Wally’s impatience never -brooked any such delay; at all times he found it difficult to sit still, -and once movement was permitted him, he was wont, as Jim further said, -“to run three ways at once.” Therefore, Jim being too peaceably inclined -to argue the matter, they made a hurried descent to the platform, -collected hand-luggage hastily, discovered a porter, assisted Mr. Linton -and Norah to alight, and had marshalled their forces on the upper deck -of the steamer while yet the main body of the passengers strove -agonizedly to find their belongings. Then Jim made a leisurely -inspection, discovered their heavy luggage in perfect safety, duly -embarked: and rejoined his party with the calm certainty of all being -right with the world. - -People were disposing themselves after the varied fashion of -’cross-Channel passengers. Apprehensive ladies and a few men cast a -despondent look at the grey sea and the white horses tumbling off-shore, -and prudently sought the shelter of the cabins, hoping, by prompt lying -down, to cheat the demon of sea-sickness. More seasoned travellers -selected chairs on the main decks, pitched them where any gleams of sun -might reach them, and settled down, rolled in rugs, to read through the -boredom of the passage. On the railings, small boys perched themselves -with the fell determination of small boys all the world over, while -anxious mothers rent the air with fruitless appeals for them to come -down, and wrathful fathers emphasized the commands with blows, or else -smoked stolidly in the conviction that a small boy who was meant to fall -in the sea would certainly fall there, in spite of his parents. Babies -wailed dismally, until borne off to the cabin by mothers and nurses; -sirens rent the air with hoarse shrieks; cranes, loading luggage, -rattled and banged, and above their din rose the shouts of newsboys -hawking London and Dublin papers. Every hand on the ship was working -furiously, for the mail has no time to spare, and nothing matters to it -but the time-table. - -They were off presently, slipping away almost imperceptibly from the -wharf, and nosing out to sea through the grey waves. The ship thrust her -bow into them doggedly. The mail-boat’s line is a straight line, and she -takes no account of the foaming billows and the anguish of passengers, -thrusting through everything from port to port. Several people who had -settled down on deck more in hope than certainty cast sad glances on the -sea, and disappeared hurriedly below. - -Jim and Wally turned up their coat-collars as the breeze freshened, and -stood swaying easily to the motion of the ship. They still bore traces -of the ordeal they had undergone in the trenches; each was unnaturally -pale and heavy-eyed, and recurring attacks of throat-trouble had kept -them from regaining full strength. Wally’s eyes, too, were weak: he was -under orders to rest them altogether, and was therefore openly jubilant -because he could not read war news—which, as he said, was one of the -most wearying occupations, only you couldn’t cease doing it without a -decent excuse. “Vetted” by a Medical Board, the pair had been given six -weeks’ leave, at the end of which time they were to report progress. - -Of the nerve-disorder which so frequently follows in the track of -gas-poisoning they were fortunately entirely free. Possibly their dose -had not been large enough: or their clean youth and perfect health had -helped them to throw off the effects felt heavily by older men. They -could joke about it now, and their longing to get “some of their own -back” was so keen as almost to discount an Irish holiday. Still, war was -likely to last long enough to give them all the fighting they needed: -there was, after all, no immediate hurry. And it was glorious to feel -strength returning: and the new fishing-rods and tackle bore fascinating -promise, while Ireland itself was a country of their dreams. - -As for Mr. Linton and Norah, they looked after the boys unceasingly, fed -them at alarmingly short intervals, and in general manifested so -subservient a desire to run all their errands that the victims revolted, -declaring they were patients no longer, and threatening severe measures -if they were not restored to independence. Norah and her father -submitted unwillingly. To nurse trench-worn warriors had the double -effect of being in itself comforting, while, so long as the nursing -lasted, the warriors could not possibly consider returning to the -trenches. - -They looked about them as the swift steamer raced westward. Soldiers, -soldiers everywhere; every likely youngster was in uniform, and there -were many older men whose keen, quiet faces bore the ineffaceable stamp -of the regular officer of the old Army—the old Army that was gone for -ever, only a fragment left after the first fierce onslaught of war. The -men for’ard were laughing and singing, just as they laughed and sang in -the trenches; a cornet-player belonging to the band had found his -instrument and was leading the tune. Near Norah, three or four nuns, -sweet-faced and grave, were seated, evidently enjoying the keen wind -that swept into their faces. There was the usual sprinkling of -passengers, some mere heaps of rugs in deck-chairs, others walking -briskly up and down. Somewhat apart, a tall old priest stood by the -rail, looking ahead: a gaunt old man with burning, dark eyes, that -searched the grey sea and sky wistfully, as if looking for the land to -which they were hastening. Jim, strolling backwards and forwards, came -presently to a standstill near him, and asked a question. - -“Do you know what time we get in, sir?” - -“’Tis about three hours, I believe—that or less,” said the old man, -courteously. He turned a steady glance on Jim, and apparently approved -of him, for he smiled. “Do you not know Ireland, then?” - -Jim shook his head. “It’s my first visit.” - -“So?” The old eyes looked ahead once more. “They take under three hours -now to cross; ’twas many more last time I came away—the bitter day!” he -added, half under his breath. “And that’s three-and-forty years ago, my -son!” - -“What! and you’ve never been back, sir?” - -“Never. I’ve been in America. A good country; but it never lets you go, -and it never gets to be home. All that three-and-forty years I’ve been -thinking of the day I’d be going back again.” - -“And it’s come,” said Jim, his smile suddenly lighting his grey eyes. -The old man smiled back - -“If you weren’t so young I’d say you knew what it was to be homesick,” -said he. - -“I come from Australia,” said Jim, briefly. - -“Well, well, well!” the priest said. “There’s another great -country—only so far away. There’s many a good Irishman there, they tell -me.” - -“Any number of them,” said Jim. “We’ve got one of the best on our -place—Murty O’Toole. He taught me to ride.” - -“Did he so? There were O’Tooles in Wicklow when I was a boy; but sure -and they’re all over the world. You’ll be glad to go back, when the time -comes?” - -“Glad!” said Jim, explosively. He laughed. “It’s very jolly, of course, -to visit other places. But home’s home, isn’t it, sir?” - -“Aye,” said the old man. He looked ahead, his eyes misty. -“Three-and-forty years I’ve dreamed of it; and now I’m waiting to see -the hills of Ireland coming out of the sea, and this last hour seems -longer than all the years. Well, well; and they’re all dead, all the -people I knew; and I going home to die, like a wornout old dog.” - -“You’ll live in Ireland many a year yet, sir,” Jim told him, quickly. - -“No, no; I’m done. ’Tis my heart, and it finished—sure, wouldn’t forty -years of work in New York finish any heart!” said the old man, laughing. -“But I’m lucky to be getting back to Ireland to die. Did you ever hear, -now, of the Sons of Tuireann?” - -Jim shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir.” - -“They were great fighting men, and they had great hardship,” said the -priest: “and at the end of all things they were on the sea coming home, -dying. And one of them cried out that he saw the hills of home. And the -others said, ‘Raise up our heads on your breast till we see Ireland -again: and life or death will be the same to us after that.’ So they -died. That was a good ending. A man wouldn’t ask better. ’Tis a hard -thing, dying in a strange country, but you’d go very easy, once you got -home.” He spoke half to himself, so low that the boy hardly caught the -words. They stood silently for awhile, looking ahead across the tumbling -sea. - -“I had no right to be talking to you about dying,” the old priest said -presently, turning to Jim with a smile that made his face -extraordinarily child-like. “Old men get foolish; and my heart’s too big -for my body this day, and I getting home. Tell me now—are ye Irish, at -all?” - -“My mother was Irish,” Jim answered. - -“I’d have said so. What part might she have come from?—and is she with -you?” - -“She died when I was a kiddie,” Jim answered. “She came from Donegal. -Father says she always loved it.” - -“Well, well! Wherever you’re born, you love that place. But I think the -love for Ireland is beyond most things. The people leave it because -there’s no room for them and no money; but no matter where they go they -leave the half of their hearts behind. And they put something of the -love into their children no matter where they’re born, so that they -always want to come and see Ireland: and when they come, ’tis no strange -place to them; they feel they’ve come home. You’ll feel it—for all that -you love that big young country of yours, and want to get back to her. -But every old ruin, and every bit of brown bog and heathery mountain, -and every little stony field, will say something to you that you will -not be able to put into words: and when you go back you will not forget. -There, there! I’m talking again!” said the old man; “and to a boy with -business of his own. Tell me, now, have you been out across yonder yet?” -He nodded in the direction of Flanders. - -They talked of war, the priest nodding vehemently and punctuating Jim’s -brief sentences with exclamations of “Well, well!” The wistfulness -dropped from him suddenly; he was a fighting man, a Crusader—with a -young man’s burning desire to be out in the trenches, and a young man’s -keenness to hear details of battle. “There’s fifty thousand French -priests fighting for France,” he said, enviously: “none the worse -soldiers for being priests, I’ll vow, and they’ll be all the better -priests afterwards for having been soldiers! If I were young! if I were -young!” He laughed at his own vehemence. “It’s your day,” he said; “a -great world just now for young men. And they tell me there’s any number -of them out of khaki yet—standing behind counters and selling lace and -ribbons; and some of them doing women’s hair! More shame for the women -that let them!” - -“If a man wants to stay out of the game and do women’s work, well that’s -all he’s fit for,” said Jim, slowly. “He’s not wanted where there’s work -going. But he ought to have some sort of a brand put on him, so that -people will be able to tell him from a man in future!” - -The priest chuckled appreciatively. - -“Petticoats are the brand he wants,” said he. “And an extra tax put on -him, to support the widows and children of the men who were men—who -went and fought to save his worthless hide. ’Tis a shame, now, they -wouldn’t make him pay some way. Well, they wouldn’t have me in the -trenches—and it’s good sense they have; but for all I’m a broken-down -old ruin I’m going fighting—fighting with my tongue against the boys -that stay at home. Perhaps they don’t realize—the young ones: they -might listen to an old man that was a priest. Just a few days to rest -and feel I’m home at last, and I’m going to do my bit as a recruiting -sergeant!” - -“Good luck!” Jim said, heartily. “Only don’t get knocked up, sir.” - -The old man laughed. - -“’Tis only once a man can die,” he said, cheerfully. “I’d die easier -knowing I’d done my bit, as you boys say. But I’m in dread I’ll lose my -temper with them, especially if I meet the lads that dress heads of -hair! They wash them too, I’m told. Well, well, it’s a queer world!” - -Wally came up, faintly indignant at Jim’s lengthy absence, and joined in -the talk: and presently Mr. Linton and Norah followed, and made friends -with the old man. He was such a simple, cheery old man: it was easy to -be friends with him. They grew merry over queer stories from many -countries, and often the priest’s laugh rang out like a boy’s, while his -own stories brought peals of mirth from his new friends. But through it -all his dark eyes kept searching ahead: ever looking, looking till the -hills of Ireland should lift from the sea. - -“They tell me you have big trees in that Australia of yours,” he said. -“Tell me now, are they as big as the Califorian redwoods?” - -“I don’t know the redwoods,” Wally answered solemnly. “But ours are big. -There’s a story of twelve men who started with axes and cross-cut saws -to get a gum-tree down. They worked on one side for nine months and then -they got bored with that, and they packed up and made a journey round to -the other side. And there they found a party of fifteen men who’d been -working at that side for a year, and they were very surprised——” -Laughter overcame him suddenly at the sight of the priest’s amazed face. - -“You young rascal!” said he, joining in the laugh against himself. “And -I taking it all in so meekly!” - -“I might go on, if you liked, sir, and tell you the story of the man who -was out in the bush bringing home some calves,” said Wally. - -“Don’t spare me,” begged his hearer. - -“Well, he found his way blocked by a fallen tree, too big to get the -calves over. So he started to drive them along it, to get round. When he -didn’t come home they came to the conclusion that he had stolen the -calves; and so they had to apologize to him, later on, when he turned up -with a nice lot of bullocks. He said proudly that he hadn’t lost one, -only they had grown up while they were on the journey!” - -“That was a long tree!” said the priest, between chuckles. “Well, well, -it must be a great country that will grow such timber—and such stories, -and the boys to tell them!” - -Wally laughed. - -“I ought to beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “Only no good Australian can -resist telling tall stories about his tall trees. But I can tell you a -true one of a tree I knew where seven men camped in the hollow butt. -They had bunks built inside, all round it, and a table in the middle, -and of course, space for a doorway. That tree was over fifty-five feet -inside, and goodness only knows what it was outside, buttresses and -all.” - -“And it’s true, I suppose, that you could drive a coach-and-four through -a tree?” the priest asked. - -“Driving a coach-and-four through the hollowed-out stump of a tree used -to be common enough with us,” said Jim. “Not that the four horses -mattered: you might as well say ‘and twelve’; it was the width high -enough up to take the top of the coach that meant a really big tree. It -was easier to make a hollow shell fit for the passage of the coach than -to get the whole tree cut down.” - -“Quite so—quite so,” said the priest. “And I’ve read of church services -being held in a hollow tree, in your country. - -“Rather. We know one that held twenty-two people. It was in a wild part -of the bush, and whatever clergyman came along used to use it—Roman -Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian or Baptist; it didn’t matter. Every -one used to roll up, for it wasn’t often there was a chance of a church -service. There were lots of jobs for the travelling parson, too: all the -accumulated weddings and christenings.” - -“Do you tell me!” said the priest. - -“My mother had three children before ever a chance came of a baptism,” -said Mr. Linton. “Then the three were done together. I was the eldest, -and I remember being extremely indignant about it—I was four years old, -and it was winter, and the water was cold! It was a standing joke -against me afterwards that I had behaved so much worse than my small -brother and sister.” He laughed, and then grew grave. “Poor bush -mothers! they didn’t have an easy time. Two of my mother’s babies died -without ever having seen a clergyman; to the end of her life she worried -about the little souls that had gone out unbaptized.” - -“It was themselves needed great hearts—those pioneer women,” said the -priest. - -“They did; and mostly they had great hearts. But then I think most women -have, if the need really comes,” Mr. Linton said. “Thousands of them -were delicate, tenderly-reared women, with no experience of bush -conditions in a new country; but they made good. Women have a curious -way of finding themselves able to tackle any conditions with which they -are actually faced. My mother never was strong, and she had no training -for work; I expect she was something of a butterfly until she married my -father and went off into the Never-Never. She ended by being a kind of -oracle for fifty miles round; people used to send for her at all hours -of the day or night, in sickness, and she developed a business capacity -better than my father’s. I remember her as a little, merry thing: always -tired, but never too tired to work for other people. She was only one of -thousands of women doing the same thing.” - -“But the process of learning must have been hard,” said the old priest, -pityingly. - -“Yes. It must have been a tough apprenticeship. My mother told me she -used to sit down and cry often at the loneliness and strangeness of it -all—in the long days when all the men were miles away from the -homestead, and she was alone, with the chance of bush fires and -bushrangers and wild blacks. That was until the babies came. After that -there was no time to cry—which, she said, was a very good thing for -her. Poor little mother!” - -He sighed; and in the silence that followed a slight commotion was -audible on the bridge. The priest glanced up sharply. - -“Nothing—but that cruel business of the _Lusitania_ makes everyone -suspicious at sea, nowadays,” he said. “Still, the Germans may be active -enough in the south, but I don’t fancy they’ll come into these -landlocked waters. Too much risk from our destroyers.” - -Norah was leaning over the rail. - -“What’s that thing?” she said, slowly. - -Their eyes followed the direction of her pointing finger. Nearly astern, -a slender grey object bobbed among the waves: so small a thing that an -idle glance might easily have passed it by unnoticed. A shadowy, grey -bar, bearing aloft what looked like a nut. - -Jim uttered a shout. - -“By Jove, it’s a submarine!” - -Even as he shouted, a long grey shadow came into view under the bar. -Simultaneously, the engine-telegraph clanged from the bridge, and -following the signal, the steamer altered her course with a jerk that -sent most of the standing passengers headlong to the deck. They picked -themselves up, unconscious of bruises, rushing again to the rail. - -The submarine was well in view—a slender, vicious, grey boat, with a -little cluster of men visible on her tiny deck, round the shaft of the -periscope. She was terribly near. Suddenly a volume of black smoke -gushed from the steamer’s funnels; the firemen were flinging themselves -at their work below, since on speed alone hung their slender hope of -safety. Again she altered her course. Sharp orders came from the bridge; -sailors were running to and fro, and an officer was serving out -life-belts frantically. - -Something shot from the submarine—something that made a long, -glistening streak across the water, coming straight towards them like a -flash; and David Linton flung his arm round Norah muttering, “My God!” A -strained, high voice cried, “A torpedo!” and then silence fell upon the -ship, broken only by the smothered gasps of women. Straight and swift -the streak came; unimaginably swift, and yet the watching seemed a -lifetime. - -“Hold tight to the rail,” Jim’s voice said in Norah’s ear. She gripped -mechanically; and as she did so, the steamer jerked again, plunging to -one side like a frightened horse that sees danger. It was just in time. -The torpedo shot past, missing the bow by a fraction—a space so small -that it was almost impossible to believe that it had indeed missed. Then -came relief, finding vent in an irrepressible shout. - -“It’s too soon to shout,” some one said. “She’ll make better shooting -next time.” - -Stewards and sailors were hurrying round, distributing life-belts; it -was no easy matter to put them on, for the ship was zigzagging wildly, -dodging in a desperate effort to elude her pursuer, and balance was -impossible without a firm hold on some fixed object. - -“Sit on the deck—it’s safest,” said Mr. Linton. He fastened Norah’s -life-belt, while Jim performed a similar office for him, and Wally put -one on the old priest, who was so wild with excitement as to be quite -oblivious of any such precaution. His face was deadly white, his dark -eyes blazing. In his first fall he had lost his black felt hat, and his -silver hair waved in the wind. - -“The murdering villains—the assassins!” he said. “Yerra, if I could -fight!” - -An officer called for helpers to bring the women and children from -below. Jim and Wally sprang in answer, and a crowd of soldiers came -tumbling up from for’ard, elbowing their officers in mad excitement and -the rush to be first. Quick and strong hands were needed on the -companion ladders with their burdens, as the ship plunged hither and -thither, racing in zig-zags at top speed. Many of the women were -helpless between fear and the aftermath of sea-sickness; but they came -without outcry, with set white faces, determined, if this were indeed -Death, to die decently. The babies howled with a lusty disregard of the -world common to babies, while the soldiers patted them with far more -concern than they showed for the submarine. In a very few minutes not a -soul was left below. - -“Why do we zigzag?” Norah asked, clinging to the rail as a fresh jerk -shook the ship. - -“It’s our only chance,” Jim answered. “I don’t think the submarines can -beat these boats for speed, or else she’d just come up and sink us at -her leisure; and she can’t take aim accurately if we’re dodging. Of -course we cut down our speed by not going straight; but we can’t afford -the risk of letting her train her torpedo-tube carefully on us. Jove, -can’t the skipper handle this ship! She answers the helm like a -motor-car.” - -“And can’t she go!” uttered Wally. - -“Oh, the mail-boats are built for speed and not much else—thank -goodness!” Jim said. “Look!—she’s firing again!” - -Again the streak shot from the pursuing submarine and darted towards -them. They held their breath. - -It was a very close shave—only a lightning swerve saved the mail-boat. -The old priest uttered a sudden shout of triumph. “Whirroo!” he -cried—for a moment just the boy who had left Wicklow more than forty -years ago. He shook as he gripped the rail, laughing at the racing grey -shadow that followed them. - -Jim Linton’s eyes were on his little sister: and Norah, feeling them, -slipped a hand into his. - -“If it hadn’t been for us you wouldn’t be in this,” he said, miserably. - -Norah opened her eyes in amazement. - -“But that just makes it not matter so much,” she said. “Just fancy if we -weren’t all together! Don’t you worry, Jimmy.” She smiled at him very -cheerfully. - -“If she hits us and we begin to sink, don’t wait for the ship to go -over,” Mr. Linton said. “Half the boats on the _Lusitania_ were -death-traps. Let us all jump in and keep together if we can; we would -have more chance of being picked up, and less of being taken down in the -suction as she sank. Can you swim, Father?”—to the priest. - -“I can. But it’s years since I tried, and I don’t know would I keep -afloat at all,” said the old man, with unimpaired cheerfulness. “Let you -take your own course, and not trouble about me. I’m too old to try -jumping, and there’ll be some poor souls I could maybe help. And we’re -not beaten yet.” He gave a quick laugh, his grey head well up. “We’re -running away, but it’s a good fight we’re putting up, all the same: -something to see, after forty years in a New York slum!” - -“I believe he likes it!” said Wally, under his breath. But the old man -caught the words. - -“Like it! I used to dream of adventures when I was a boy, and it was all -the sea—clean winds and waves, and ships that were always magic to me. -And it ended in a slum: forty years of it, doing my work in the midst of -filth and wretchedness. Well, every man has his work, and mine lay -there. And now, at the end, this! I always knew ’twas luck I’d have if I -got back to Ireland!” - -They had raced away in a straight course after the second torpedo, -increasing the distance from their pursuer. Now, however, a shot hummed -past them, and the captain dared no longer risk a hit—again the ship -swerved from side to side, in short, irregular tacks, and the submarine -drew nearer once more. On and on—leaping like a hare when the greyhound -is behind her: engines throbbing, smoke blackening the sky in her wake. -Some of the firemen had staggered up, exhausted, their places taken by -volunteers. Ahead, a dim line lay upon the sea: the Irish coast, where -lay safety. Would they ever reach it? - -Then, from the north, came rescue: a patrol-boat, racing down upon them -with threatening guns ready to speak in their defence. She came out of a -light haze, which, blowing away, revealed her dogged grey shape, with -the white water churning and parting at her bow. Presently one of her -guns spoke, and a shell buried itself in the sea not far from the -submarine. - -“So long, Brother Boche!” said an officer; and suddenly, as if in -answer, the submarine disappeared, submerging to the safety of the -underworld. The mail-boat ceased to zigzag, running a straight course -until near the destroyer, as a child runs to a protector. - -The tension relaxed. Voices broke out in quick clamour: and then cheer -after cheer came from the pent-up passengers, redoubling as the -captain’s face showed over the railings of the bridge. The captain -grinned, saluted, and looked at his watch all at once: the danger was -over, and now the pressing business of his ordinary life reasserted -itself—the landing in time at Kingstown Pier of His Majesty’s mails. - -People were laughing and talking nervously, keeping an anxious look-out -towards the spot where the submarine had disappeared; scarcely realizing -that their peril was past, and that the grey hunter would not again -reveal itself, hurrying upon their track. The destroyer shot past them, -seeking the enemy, with signal flags talking busily to the mail-boat. A -comforting sense of security was in her wake. - -“Well!” said Jim. “We left England to find peace and quiet; but if this -is a specimen of what Ireland means to give us——” - -“We’d better get back to the peaceful marshes of Flanders,” finished -Wally. - -“I used to think when I was at home—at Billabong—that excitement would -be nice,” said Norah. “But it isn’t—not a bit: or else I’ve had an -overdose. At any rate, I don’t want any more as long as I live.” - -A little sigh came from behind her, and her father made a sudden -movement, springing to the side of the priest. The old man was swaying -backwards and forwards. They caught him, and laid him gently on the -deck. His lips parted, and he tried to speak, but no sound came. - -“Go and look for a doctor,” said Mr. Linton to Wally. “Quick!” - -He tore at the old man’s collar, while Norah rubbed his hands -desperately. It seemed the only thing she could do. A little life came -into the white face, and his voice came faintly. - -“’Tis the finish for me—don’t worry . . . my heart.” He smiled at them. -“And the doctor after telling me not to get excited.” - -“Don’t talk,” Norah begged. - -“It can’t hurt me. Don’t mind, little one.” He saw the tears in her -eyes, and tightened his hand on her fingers. “’Tis a good ending. I -wouldn’t ask for a better.” - -Wally came back, a young man in uniform, with the R.A.M.C. badge on his -collar, at his heels. The doctor bent over the old priest. Presently he -rose, shaking his head as he met David Linton’s eyes. - -“There’s nothing to be done,” he said, softly. - -The old man’s hearing was no less acute. - -“’Tis myself could have told you that,” he said. “I knew . . . next time -it came. And . . . when a man’s ready . . .” - -His voice became almost inaudible, murmuring broken words of prayer. -Behind them Jim had formed a line of soldiers, keeping off the curious -crowd. Presently he spoke again. - -“It’s easy, dying. Only it would be easier if I’d seen it again . . . -Ireland.” - -“We’re very near,” Norah told him, pityingly. - -“Near! And not to see it!” He tried to rise, helplessly. “Ah, but let me -look—let me look!” - -David Linton’s eyes met the doctor’s. - -“It can’t hurt him,” whispered the doctor. “Nothing can do that now.” - -They lifted him, very gently. Ahead, the hills of Wicklow were green and -near. The grey sky had broken, and a little shaft of sunlight stole out -and lay upon the coast. It was as though Ireland smiled to welcome back -her son. - -The dark eyes looked long and wistfully. Once he smiled at Norah; and -then looked back quickly, as though to lose no instant of home. -Presently his lips parted in broken words. - -“Till we see . . . till we see Ireland again; and life or death will be -the same to us after that.” Then no more words came. But when the doctor -signed to them to lay him down he was still smiling. - - - - - CHAPTER V - INTO DONEGAL - - -“A homely-looking folk they are, these people of my kin; -Their hands are hard as horse-shoes, but their hearts come through the - skin. -Old Michael Clancy said to me (his age is eighty-seven), -‘There’s no place like Australia—barring Ireland and Heaven!’” -V. J. DALEY. - -‟WE ought to be nearly there,” said Jim. - -“‘Ought’ seems to be the last argument that counts on this railway -line,” his father answered. “What grounds have you for your fond -belief?” - -“It’s not time-tables,” his son admitted. “They wore out long ago; I -scrapped them when they got to the stage when reading them only led to -despair. Partly I’m hoping that the guard wasn’t merely trying to keep -up my spirits when he told me we’d get to Killard at three o’clock if -Jamesy Doyle wasn’t late with his milk-cans at Ballymoe; only he added -that ’twas the bad little ass Jamesy had, and if it lay down in the cart -how would the poor man be in time?” - -“And will they wait for Jamesy and his cans?” queried Wally. - -“Most certainly, I should think. Passengers are just odd happenings, to -the guard; but Jamesy is married to a woman that’s the cousin of his -wife’s aunt, and the guard evidently has a strong family sense. This -train exists as much to carry Jamesy’s cans as anything else. However, -there’s Ballymoe, and the gentleman on the platform looks as if he might -be Jamesy. And there’s the ass in the cart outside, standing up. I -expect it’s all right.” - -The little train drew slowly into the wayside station, and the guard, -descending, wrung the hand of the somnolent gentleman enthroned upon the -milk-cans. Together they proceeded to load them into the van, but being -overcome by argument in the middle of the operation, relinquished work, -sat down on the cans, and gave themselves up to the delights of -conversation. The Linton family got out, and walked along the platform. -They had been travelling from early morning into the wilds of Donegal, -and, since leaving the main line for a succession of local trains, had -grown well accustomed to these sociable delays. Presently the -engine-driver and his fireman left their engine and joined the -discussion on the milk-cans. Norah strolled to the road and scratched -the ass gently, a proceeding accepted by the ass without resentment, but -without enthusiasm. Time went by. - -The gathering on the platform dissolved itself after a while, the first -move being made by Mr. Jamesy Doyle, who remarked that his wife’d be -tearing the hair off of him, and she waiting for him for dinner. - -“She’ll not wait long on ye; I know that one!” said the guard. - -“She will, then; sure, haven’t I it bought in the little cart yonder?” -said Jamesy, with the calmness of certainty. He assisted to place the -remainder of his property in the van, and the guard, addressing Norah -with enormous politeness, mentioned that when she was quite ready the -train would go on. “Let you not be hurrying yourself—sure we’re that -late already as makes no difference,” he added, pleasantly. They climbed -in, and the little train clanged and rattled on its way. - -At the next station two energetic men in tweed suits descended hurriedly -from the one first-class smoking-carriage and demanded their bicycles, -which had been put in an empty truck—the train being of the type known -as a “mixed goods.” Thereafter arose sounds of wrath and vituperation. - -“Something’s up; I’m going to see,” said Wally. - -They all went to see. The two cyclists, visions of helpless rage, -confronted a scene of desolation. The truck, being opened, disclosed -upon the floor a mingled heap of scrap-iron and twisted metal, which had -once been two fair bicycles: in the midst of which, firmly caught among -the battered spokes, a couple of fat wethers stood and bleated a woe -almost equal to that of the cyclists. A dozen more sheep, most of them -bearing traces of conflict with the defunct machines, in the shape of -scarred legs, pressed about the doorway, while the guard, distraught to -incoherence, endeavoured to restrain them from escaping while attempting -to justify himself before the outraged owners. Totally unsuccessful in -the second endeavour, he was only partially fortunate in the first: a -black-faced sheep, bearing a mudguard wedged upon his horns, made a dash -for freedom and fled wildly down the platform, apparently maddened by -his unfamiliar adornment. - -“And I after putting them in at one end of the truck!” lamented the -guard—“and them bikes standing against the other end! Wasn’t there room -for them all—how would I know they’d mix up on me! Get back there, bad -luck to ye, ye vilyun!”—to another black-faced aspirant for liberty. - -Helpers, divided in their sympathies, but with the preponderance of -feeling on the side of the guard, appeared mysteriously from an -apparently empty landscape and disentangled the sheep from the ruins. -The engine-driver, cutting the Gordian knot of debate, discovered that -the time-table demanded that the train should proceed forthwith; and the -cyclists were left foaming over a twisted heap on the platform, -threatening immediate telegrams to headquarters, and, if necessary, -murder. As the train slid away from the sound of their lamentations, the -fugitive sheep could be descried standing on a bank, his black visage -melancholy beneath the mudguard. - -At the next station, the guard, with a chastened face, appeared at the -window. - -“Killard, sir,” he stated. “And Patsy Burke, he have the outside car and -an ass-cart for ye.” - -Mr. Linton and his party obeyed the summons gladly. They found -themselves on a grass-grown platform, boasting very rudimentary -station-buildings. Beyond, a road ran east and west, bordered by high -banks, while on either side were small fields and wide, flat stretches -of bog. A long, thin man advanced to meet them. No one else had left the -train, and he accepted them, without introduction, as his -responsibility. - -“The car is below in the road,” he said. “The little horse, he have an -objection to the train; he’d lep a ditch sooner than face it. I’ll throw -the luggage on the ass-cart, sir, before I take you up.” - -The guard, still subdued in spirit, was diligently hauling out boxes -from his van. A suit-case and the rod-box, failing to appear, were made -the objects of fevered search, despaired of, promised by the next train, -and finally discovered in an empty third class carriage, all within the -space of five minutes. The ass-cart, drawn by a dispirited donkey -without energy to disapprove of trains, was backed on to the platform, -and the luggage piled upon it in a tottery heap, secured—more or -less—by an assortment of knotted string and old rope. Then the guard -and engine-driver, both of whom had assisted enthusiastically, bade an -affectionate farewell, and the train disappeared slowly, while the -Australians followed Patsy Burke meekly to the outside car. - -Dublin had already introduced them to the jaunting-car of Ireland, and -they had fallen instant victims to the fascination of that most -irresponsible vehicle. English tourists are wont to regard it with fear -and trembling until familiar with its ways: to hold on desperately, to -sit stiffly, and, very frequently, to fall off when rounding corners. -That the Linton party did none of these things was not due to any -superior intelligence on their parts, but merely to the fact that the -back-to-back position on the open-air cars of the Melbourne tramways -proved an excellent introduction to the Irish vehicle—insomuch that the -force of habit was so strong in Wally that the Melbourne gripman’s -habitual ejaculation, “Hold _tight_ round the curve!” sprang unbidden to -his lips every time the jarveys took a corner on one wheel. The Dublin -jarveys had liked the cheery Australians, who paid well and frankly -averred that there was never any conveyance like the jingling cars with -their merry little bells, and their good horses; and the jarveys of -Dublin are a critical race, with quick tongues and quicker wits. They -had confided to them their woes, which centred round the introduction of -motor-cars and the complete indifference of pedestrians to the rule of -the road—an indifference universal throughout Ireland, where the -unseasoned traveller is perpetually a-shiver with dread at threatened -street tragedies, perpetually averted by good luck that amounts to a -miracle. - -“I never seen the equal of these people,” one of their drivers had said, -emitting a roar like a bull of Bashan, which barely saved an elderly -woman from what looked like deliberate suicide under his horse’s hoofs. -“Yerra, ma’am, is it owning the road you are?”—to the lady, who pursued -her leisurely way with the calmness born of many such episodes. “Young -or old, ’tis all the same; they do be strolling the streets for all the -world as if they was picking mushrooms, and taking no notice of you till -you’d be knocking them down—and then they do be annoyed! There’s only -one way, and that is to let a roar out of you at them—and then the look -they give you is worse than a curse!” - -“I suppose you get into trouble if you kill more than six a day,” Wally -had said. - -The jarvey grinned. - -“Trouble, is it? Sure, some of them makes a trade of it; there’s them -old wasters in this town that’d ask nothing better than that you’d knock -’em down—not to kill them, but to knock a small piece off them, the way -you’d have to support them afterwards. There’s one man I but tipped with -the end of a shaft, and he strolling at his aise in a crowd. Crawling at -a slow walk I was; and what did he do but rowl on the ground before me, -letting on that he was kilt. There was none of the polis about, so I -left him rowling and calling murder!” - -“Did you hear any more of him?” - -“I did. Didn’t he come to me that evening and say he had his witnesses -ready, and he’d be making a polis-court matter of it if I didn’t give -him five pounds? ‘I do be making twenty-eight shillings a week,’ says -he, ‘in me health,’ says he, and now ’tis the way I cannot lift me hand -to me head,’ he says. Him, that never earned five shillings in a week in -his life, and not that, if he could steal it! I towld him to bring his -polis-court and his dirty witnesses, and that if he did, I’d pay the -five pounds for the pleasure I’d have in belting the life out of him.” - -“And did he bring it?” - -“He did not. I seen him a week after that, and he cleaning steps. ‘I’m -glad to see you looking so well and hearty, me poor man!’ says I to him; -and he thrun a look at me fit to kill. Sure I knew that one’d be more -anxious to keep out of the way of the polis than to be dandhering about -them with his cases!” - -The Dublin cars had been smart affairs, spick-and-span with bright paint -and clean upholstering, every buckle on their harness polished brightly. -Their rubber tyres strove to soften the asperities of cobbled streets. -But the car to which Patsy Burke led the Australians was of a different -aspect: small and forbidding, with straight up-and-down seats whereon -reposed cushions from which the stuffing had chiefly escaped, the -insignificant remnant remaining in hard knobs in the corners. The -original wood peeped out through faint streaks of the original paint, -while here and there patches of deal and hoop-iron lent variety to the -exterior. Many different sets had contributed towards the composition of -the harness, wherein nothing matched except in age and decrepitude. A -tattered urchin stood at the head of the little horse which had an -objection to trains. The horse was asleep. - -“If I were asked,” murmured Norah, surveying him, “I would say he had an -objection to moving at all.” - -“He looks as if he would like to lean up against a tree and dream,” said -Wally, “and good gracious! is he going to drag the lot of us!” - -“Why wouldn’t he?” asked Mr. Burke, with some asperity. “Git along with -ye to the ass, John Conolly,”—to the boy—“and lend a hand to the big -thrunk when the road does be rough, or it will fall off on ye. Will ye -get up, miss?” - -“Is it far?” asked Norah, regarding the somnolent horse with troubled -eyes. - -“’Tis five Irish miles, miss.” - -“But can he take us all? There’s—there’s so much of us,” said Norah, -her glance roving over her tall menfolk, and dwelling finally on Mr. -Burke, who was not less tall. - -“Him!” said Mr. Burke. “But isn’t the luggage on the ass-cart? Sure -it’ll only be a luxury for him—many’s the time I’ve known that one with -seven or eight behind him, going to a funeral, and he that full of -courage, I’d me own throubles to keep him from bolting? Let ye get up, -and ’tis little he’ll be making of ye.” - -They got up, unhappily, and Mr. Burke hopped into the driver’s -seat—which is occupied only in time of stress, the jarvey greatly -preferring to drive from the side. He said, “G’wan, now!” to the little -horse, and that animal awoke and took the road gallantly, while a -cracked bell on his collar rattled a discordant accompaniment to his -hoof-beats. - -They jogged on between the high banks. The scent of the whitethorn that -made snow upon their crests flooded the air, and mingled with deep wafts -of odour from clumps of furze lying golden in the fields. There were -other flowers starring the hedges; honeysuckle, waving long arms of -sweetness, and, nestling closely in the grass-grown banks, clusters of -wild violets, starry celandines and even a few late primroses. There -were many houses in sight; little whitewashed cabins scattered over the -hills, approached by narrow boreens or tiny lanes, so narrow that it -seemed that even an ass-cart could scarcely manage to squeeze in between -their towering banks. - -“Did you ever see such little paddocks—fields, I ought to say?” uttered -Wally. “And the great fat banks and hedges between them! Why, they must -cover as much ground as there is in many of the fields!” - -“We’d put wire-fences, in Australia,” said Mr. Linton, laughing. “It’s -queer, when you come to think of it: we’re supposed to have land to -spare, but we put the narrowest fences that can be made; and here, there -isn’t enough to go round, and they cover up ever so much of it with -their banks.” - -“Oh, but aren’t you glad they don’t make wire-fences!” Norah broke out. -“They’re so hideous: and these hedges are just exquisite.” - -“Not being a landholder, I am, indeed,” said her father. “The idea of -this landscape given up to wire-fences is depressing—long may they -stick to their banks! And their shelter must be valuable in this -country; they don’t seem to have many trees.” His eye ran over the bare -little fields. “Don’t you grow trees, in Donegal?” he asked of the back -of Mr. Burke. - -That gentleman, feeling himself addressed, swung round. - -“There do be plenty in the woods and in gentlemen’s grounds, sir. I -never seen any in the fields. They do say there was any amount in the -ould ancient days, or how would the bogs be there? Forests, no less; and -quare beasts in them. I’ve seen ould heads of deer with horns that wide -you’d never get them up a boreen. There were no fields and no fences in -those days, and people lived by hunting—great hunting those big deer -would give them, to be sure. If you’d kill a rabbit nowadays it’d be as -much as you’d do to ate it before the polis had you!” - -“If killing rabbits is what you care for, you might come to Australia,” -said Jim, laughing. “You would certainly be welcome there. Only after a -little while, you wouldn’t eat any.” - -“There was a lad I knew in Derry went out to them parts,” said Mr. -Burke, “and he sent home letters with such tales of his doings you -wouldn’t believe them. He said there were beasts that hopped on their -tails faster than a horse ’ud gallop, and rabbits that had the face ate -off the country. Like a carpet on the floor, he says. But sure he was -always the boy that’d spin you a yarn.” - -“It was a true yarn, anyhow,” Jim remarked. - -“Do ye tell me, now?” The long face of Patsy Burke was respectful, but -incredulous, “And another thing he said, that a man couldn’t believe: -that the genthry’d go out and poison foxes!” - -“They would,” said Mr. Linton. “Gladly.” - -“But——” Words failed Mr. Burke. He gaped at his passengers. The horse -dropped to a walk, unheeded. - -“Poison them, or shoot them, or get rid of them in any way possible,” -said Jim, enjoying the mounting agony of Mr. Burke. “We can’t do much -hunting, you see, when we live on big places, with the nearest neighbour -perhaps twenty miles off; and often the hills are so steep and rough, -and so thick with fallen timber, that horses and hounds would want wings -to hunt through them. But a man may have thousands of sheep on hills -like that.” - -“Do ye tell me? Thousands, is it?” - -“Rather. And the foxes breed like rabbits in those hills, and there’s -nothing they like so well as young lambs. You can go out in the morning -and find forty or fifty dead lambs—the cruel brutes of foxes just eat -their noses and go on to the next. When you see that number of little -lambs killed, in that fashion, you’re ready to start poisoning foxes.” - -“Ye would so,” said Mr. Burke, explosively. “And no one interferes with -ye?” - -“Why, you get paid for it,” Jim said. To which Mr. Burke replied by a -gasp of “God help us!” and relieved his feelings by lashing the horse -with a shout of “G’wan, now!” The horse broke into a surprised canter, -and they rocked down a little hill. At its foot a wide expanse of bog -stretched westward, looking like a great grassy plain. Here and there, -near the road, men were working at cutting turf, armed with the loy or -narrow, sharp spade, which takes out a sod of turf, the size of a brick, -to be stacked to dry in the sun. A great corner had already been cut -away, and lay bleak and desolate. Above its level the wall of turf rose -three or four feet, a dark-brown glutinous-looking mass, smoothly marked -with the scars of the loy. There were deep pools of water here and -there: the brown bog-water that scares the English tourists who finds it -in a bedroom jug in a hotel, and gives foundation for future scathing -comments on the dirty ways of Ireland: the fact being that if its -exquisite velvet-softness could be taken to London, most of the Bond -Street complexion specialists would go out of business for lack of -customers. - -“So that’s turf,” commented Wally, looking curiously at the rough stacks -of sods, which the sun was drying to a lighter colour than the deep -brown of the bog-face. “It doesn’t look the sort of stuff you’d make -fires of—wherein I expect I show my hideous ignorance.” - -Mr. Burke had begun with a snort at the first part of this remark, but -checked it in its birth at the frank avowal of the conclusion. - -“Wait till ye see it burn, sir,” he said. “Ye’d not want a better fire, -barring ye could get a bit of bog-wood to mix with it. Then ye’d not get -its aiqual if ye were walking the world all your life.” - -“Are those pools deep?” Norah asked, looking at the still brown water, -fringed with reeds and sedges. - -“Some of ’em’s no depth at all; and there’s some that deep that no man -knows the bottom of ’em. They’d take anyone and swallow him entirely, -the way he’d never be heard of again; and they do say the bog keeps ’em -fresh as if they’d just fallen in, only I dunno would it be true: I -never seen anybody that had come out. It’s one of the old stories that -do be going in the country.” - -“When _we_ talk about a bog, we mean something that looks—well, boggy,” -Norah said. “I never thought an Irish bog looked so pretty; all grass -and rushes, like a big plain. Why do they call it a bog?” - -“You’d know if you got into it,” said Mr. Burke, bearing patiently with -the ignorance of the foreigner. “There’s parts of it firm enough to -gallop a horse over; but you’d want to know where you were going, it’s -that treacherous—it’d let you down as deep as your waist in a second, -and it looking safe as a street. Some of the mosses that do be growing -on it ’ud warn you: there’s one or two kinds that only grow where it’s -deep and quaking. As for pretty—it’s airly yet for flowers; but you’d -see it like a garden, in the autumn, with meadowsweet and loosestrife -and canavan, that they call the bog-cotton, like snow lying on it. -There’s no end to the quare things that do be growing in a bog.” - -They passed ass-carts, built up with basket work to form creels, piled -high with turf,—generally in the charge of a barefooted urchin, -dark-eyed and graceful in his rags, who would fling a cheery “Good-day” -at the car rattling by, touching his cap to “the genthry.” - -“’Tis a great year for saving turf,” Mr. Burke told them. “There’s no -knowing what the war’ll be doing with prices; they say the poor -people’ll be hard put to it to go on living at all. So everyone’s -getting turf; sure, it’s easier to be hungry if you’re warm. I dunno, at -all, why would they make a war: didn’t we have enough and too much to -pay for tea and tobacco as it was without the ould Kaiser poking in his -nose?” Thus adjusting satisfactorily the responsibility for his -financial troubles, Mr. Burke addressed the horse angrily, and drove on -in silence. - -They came to a little river, brawling merrily under a bridge of grey -stone. A turn in the road brought trees in view, fringing a lough that -lay tranquil in the sunlight; a placid sheet of blue water broken here -and there by tiny islands. Towards the end that was nearest, the trees -were thickly planted. Between them they caught glimpses of an old stone -house nestling in a wilderness of a garden that ran down almost to the -edge of the lough. - -Patsy Burke swung the little horse in through a gateway, the iron gates -of which stood invitingly open. They jogged up a winding avenue, -overhung with lofty beech-trees. It ended suddenly in front of the -house. Through a wide doorway they could see a dim hall, where a -bewildering collection of old guns and blunderbusses was ranged over a -massive mahogany table, the legs of which ended in claw-feet that would -have drawn a connoisseur like a magnet. Honeysuckle and roses climbed -together up the old walls, framing the doorway in blossom. - -“Are ye there, ma’am?” bawled Patsy. - -A pleasant-faced woman came through the hall quickly. - -“I’d have given up expecting you, if that old train was ever in time,” -she said, giving a hand to Norah as that damsel hopped from the car. -“Aren’t you all tired out, and you travelling since early morning? Come -in then—there’s hot water waiting in your rooms, and tea will be ready -in ten minutes. Is the luggage coming, Patsy?” - -“It is, ma’am,” responded Mr. Burke. “Lasteways, if that image of a John -Conolly doesn’t play any of his thricks with the ass.” - -“Perhaps, now, you’d be better going back to meet him when you have the -horse stabled,” suggested his mistress. “I wouldn’t have the luggage -delayed.” - -“Ah, sure, it will be all right,” said Mr. Burke, hastily, “John -Conolly’s not that bad; he’ll get it here sometime, but where’d be the -use of hurrying the ass? Well, I’ll throw a look down the road when I’m -after putting the car by, ma’am.” - -“And that makes sure of me poor Brownie getting a good grooming,” -murmured the landlady, ushering her guests into the house as the car -jogged stablewards. “Patsy’s not that fond of a walk that he’d scamp his -job to be travelling the road after John Conolly. Are you there, -Bridget?” - -“I am, ma’am,” said a pretty girl, appearing from the back of the hall -with such swiftness as to compel the belief that she had been -surreptitiously observing the new-comers. - -“Take the gentlemen to their rooms,” commanded the landlady. “Will you -come with me, Miss Linton?” - -Norah followed her up the broad staircase. A wide corridor led through -mouldering archways, whence passages branched off to right and left. The -walls bore signs of decorations of a bygone day, now faint and faded -with age. The landlady threw open the door of a large room, with two -windows looking over the lough. A huge bed occupied an alcove: bare -acreages of floor intervened between isolated pieces of furniture, with -rugs lying, like islands, on the stained boards. - -“I took up the carpet—’twas old and there were holes in it you’d fall -through,” said the landlady. “But I could put you in a smaller room if -you’d rather have a carpet.” - -“I like this,” Norah said, looking round the clean bareness of the room. -“But can’t I have the windows open?” - -“You’ll have to fight Bridget over them,” replied the landlady, flinging -both windows wide. “I opened them twice this morning, but she shut them -again; and the second time she was so anxious about all the deaths you’d -be dying with the dint of the cold blast sweeping in, that I let them -stay.” - -“I didn’t think there was any cold blast,” Norah said laughing. - -“There wasn’t; but Bridget thinks that any air that comes in through an -open window is a blast, even if it’s the middle of summer. Have you -everything you want, Miss Linton? I’m sure you’ll all be famished for -your tea, and I’ll run and see to it.” - -“I think this is a jolly place,” Norah said, as they gathered, ten -minutes later, round a table that might certainly have groaned under its -load of good things, had it not been made of exceedingly solid old -mahogany. “It’s not a bit like a boarding-house, is it? There’s such a -home-y feel about it.” - -“There’s a home-y look about this table,” Jim averred. “I haven’t seen -anything like it since we left Billabong.” - -There were crusty loaves of Irish soda-bread, which is better than -anything else except the home-made bread of Australia, heaps of brown, -crisp scones, buttered hot-cakes, and glass dishes with ruby-coloured -jams. A bowl of cream was in the middle, and a dish of rich dark honey -in the comb—not like the anæmic honey one buys in London, which is made -by fat and lazy bees out of dishes of sugar and water, and tastes like -it. The Irish bees had worked over miles of heathery moorland, and their -honey held something of the heather’s fresh sweetness. - -“Think of the trenches—and bully beef!” ejaculated Wally. “I say, -what’s this?” - -He had uncovered a smoking plateful of a queer flat substance, on which -attention was immediately focussed. - -“Does one eat it?” Norah queried. - -“Blessed if I know,” Jim answered. “It looks a bit queer.” - -Light suddenly illumined Mr. Linton. - -“Bless us, that’s potato-cake!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t tasted it for -many a year, and it’s one of the best things going. It ought to be eaten -so hot that it burns the mouth, so I advise you not to lose time.’ He -helped himself, declaring that no considerations of etiquette were to -stand in the way of the proper temperature of a potato-cake, and the -others somewhat doubtfully followed his example. In a very short time -the plate was empty. - -“_That’s_ a recipe I’ll take back to Brownie!” was Norah’s significant -comment. “Do you think Mrs. Moroney would let me have a lesson on it in -the kitchen?” - -“Mrs. Moroney seems inclined to eat from one’s hand,” said Mr. Linton. -“She’s desperately anxious for us to be comfortable. You know, we were -told in London that she had only begun this business since the war—her -husband is at the front—so time hasn’t soured her as it sours most -landladies. We’re lucky in catching her in the fluid state: later on -she’ll solidify into the adamantine condition that is truly -landladylike.” - -“Meanwhile, she’s rather an old duck,” said Wally. “Hallo, who’s that?” - -A small rosy face, crowned with a tangle of yellow curls, was peeping -round the doorway. Finding itself observed, it hastily disappeared. -Norah snatched a sponge-cake and went in swift pursuit, returning, a -moment later, with a very small boy clad in a blue shirt and -ridiculously diminutive knickerbockers, who greeted the company with a -friendly smile somewhat complicated by a large mouthful of cake. - -“Well, you’re a cheerful person,” Jim said. “What’s your name?” - -“Timsy,” said the new-comer. “And I’m eight.” - -“I call that genius,” said Wally. “He knew you’d ask him that next, so -he saved you the trouble. Do you live here, Timsy?” - -The small boy nodded vigorously. - -“Me daddy’s gorn,” he volunteered. - -“Where?” - -“Fightin’ the Gair-mins. They’s bad—they’s after hurtin’ him in the -laig.” - -“Did they?” said Wally, sympathetically. “Poor daddy! Is he better?” - -“He is. He’s goin’ to shoot me some.” - -“Is he, now? Will he bring them home?” - -“I dunno will he. I asked the postman, an’ he said daddy couldn’t post -’em.” - -“That wasn’t nice of the postman,” said Jim. “What would you do with -them if you got them?” - -“Frow fings at ’em,” said Timsy, valiantly. - -“Good man!” said Jim. “We’ll have you in the trenches before the war’s -over, I expect. Another cake, old chap?” - -Timsy accepted the cake graciously, digging his white teeth into it with -appreciation. - -“I’m after having me tea,” he confided. “An’ Bridget said there wasn’t -any cake. But there’s lots.” His eye swept the table. - -“There is, indeed,” said Jim, guiltily. “Just you have as much as you -feel like.” - -“Are you a soldier?” demanded Timsy, his eyes on Jim’s uniform. - -The boy nodded. - -“Like me daddy?” - -“Not as good, I expect,” said Jim. - -“Me daddy’s the finest soldier ever went out of Ireland—old Nanny told -me he was. And she said if once he met that old Kaiser he’d be sorry he -ever got borned. An’ he would, too, if me daddy cot him. An he’s a -sergeant, ’cause he’s got free stripes on his arm. Why hasn’t you got -any?” - -“I don’t know as much as your daddy,” said Jim, probably with perfect -truth. “When I get bigger they may give me some.” - -“You’re bigger than me daddy, now,” said Timsy, surveying him. “Only you -haven’t got any whiskers. I ’spect you have to have whiskers before you -get free stripes.” - -“I expect so,” Jim agreed. “I’ll grow some the first minute I get time. -What have you done with your legs, Timsy?” - -“Scratched ’em, I ’spect,” said Timsy, indifferently, casting a fleeting -glance at his bare brown legs, which bore many marks of warfare. “They’s -bwambles in the wood. Why is your buttons dif-runt to me daddy’s?” - -“What are your daddy’s like?” - -Timsy fished laboriously in the pocket of his shirt. - -“I got one here,” he said. “It came uncottoned, an’ fell off, an’ daddy -said I could have it. Look—it’s nicer than yours.” - -“Of course it is—isn’t your daddy a sergeant?” said Jim, gravely. Timsy -looked up sharply, and was seized with compunction. - -“Don’t you mind,” he said, hastily putting away his cherished button, -lest dangling it before the eyes of his new friend should excite vain -longings in his soul. He slipped a grimy little paw into Jim’s. “’Twill -not be long at all before they make a sergeant of you. Can you hurry up -an’ grow whiskers?” - -“I’ll do my best,” returned Jim, laughing. “You’re a good old sportsman, -Timsy. Have another cake.” - -Timsy’s head was bent over the dish in the tremendous effort of -selection, when a slight commotion was heard in the hall. - -“I was without in the scullery,” said a high-pitched voice, “and I after -giving him his tea. ‘Let you sit quiet there till I have a minute to put -a decent appearance on you,’ says I. ‘’Tis not in them ould rags you’d -be having the genthry see you,’ I says. With that I wint back, an’ the -kitchen was as bare as the palm of me hand. I’ve called him till me -throat’s cracking——” - -“Is that you, Timsy?” whispered Norah. The dancing eyes of the culprit -were sufficient answer. - -“Blessed Hour!” said the voice of Mrs. Moroney, torn between relief and -wrath. Her good-natured face hung in the doorway, presently followed by -her ample form. “Is it you, then, Timsy Moroney, disgracing me and -annoying the gentleman! Why would you have him on your knee, sir, and he -the ragamuffin of the world? I’d not have you troubled with him.” - -“He’s not troubling me at all, Mrs. Moroney,” Jim assured her. “He’s an -awfully friendly little chap. Does it matter if he has cakes?” - -The question savoured of shutting the stable-door after the stealing of -the steed. Timsy ate his cake hurriedly, lest disaster await him in the -answer. - -“There’s nothing he doesn’t eat,” said his mother resignedly. “But I’d -not let him annoy you, sir.” - -“There was no cake in the kitchen!” said Timsy, fixing reproachful eyes -on his parent. “How would I have me tea, an’ no cake?” - -“Cock you up with cake!” returned Mrs. Moroney, spiritedly. “Well able -to go without it you are, for once in a while.” She relented before her -son’s appealing gaze. “Come away, then, and let Bridget wash you: sure, -she’s screaming all over the place after you.” - -Timsy hesitated, regarding Jim with affection. - -“Can I come back some time?” he demanded. - -“Of course you can,” said Jim. - -The small boy climbed down slowly. - -“I’m destroyed with washin’,” he complained. “’Tis only at dinner-time -she had me all soaped. An’ I _hate_ shoes . . .” The voice of his -lamentations died away as his mother swept him from the room. - -“Nice kid,” said Jim, getting up. “Let’s go out and reconnoitre.” - -The shadows were lengthening across the strip of tree-fringed grass -leading to the gate. Near the house, the garden was a wilderness of -colour and fragrance. Roses and sweet-peas, stocks and asters, -nasturtiums and clematis, in a bewildering tangle, jostled each other in -the untidy beds and on the old stone walls. Here and there was a -mouldering summer-house, its entrance almost blocked with hanging -creepers, while in shady nooks in the winding walks were seats with an -appearance of old age that suggested prudence in sitting down. - -Presently they came upon a path leading abruptly down-hill to the lough. -They followed it, passing out of the garden into a little field where -small black Kerry cattle looked inquisitively at them, and through a -rickety gate on to the shore, where grey pebbles made a rough beach. A -disconsolate donkey, attached to a windlass, walked round and round in a -weary circle, pumping water up to the house—a spectacle which promptly -set Norah to hunting for a thistle for him, which the donkey received -coldly. - -“It would take more than a thistle to sweeten that job,” said Wally. -“Come and look at the boat.” - -Mr. Patsy Burke was rather feverishly busy with the boat—it had -apparently occurred to him that since the new-comers would assuredly -want her it might be as well to make certain that she was sound. She was -not sound—to rectify which obvious condition Mr. Burke laboured -mightily. - -“She’s seen better days,” remarked Mr. Linton, looking at the ancient -vessel with critical eyes. Already she had been extensively patched: her -paint was merely a memory, and she bore “a general flavour of mild -decay.” The oars, which lay near, had also been mended many times. They -did not match: a fact which the Australians were to discover later. - -“Ah, sure, she’s a good boat,” said Mr. Burke. “’Tis only the thrifle of -a leak she have in her. You wouldn’t ask an aisier or a kinder boat to -pull than that one—begob, she’s the best boat to be found on any lough -hereabouts.” This assertion also was to be verified by time. “In the -ould times, when the family was here, many’s the day I’ve seen her, full -of red cushions and fine ladies, and she tearing up the lough like a -racehorse!” The poetic nature of Mr. Burke’s memories moved him to a -sigh. - -“Who was the family?” queried Mr. Linton. - -“The O’Donnells, to be sure,” answered Mr. Burke, his long face -expressing faint surprise at ignorance so vast. “They owned all this -country, from the ould ancient times—but there’s none of them left now. -Me gran’father, and his gran’father before him, was tenants under them. -I’m told they were kings, one time. But there’s nothing left of any of -the ould stock now—all their houses is sold, or falling to pieces, an’ -they at the ends of the earth, seeking their fortune.” - -“The house is very old, isn’t it?” Norah asked. - -“’Tis ould, and ’tis falling to decay—it ’ud take a power of money to -put it right. Ah, the good days is gone from Ireland—what with the land -war and the famine, all the money was swept from her.” Mr. Burke stopped -abruptly. He pulled his battered felt hat over his eyes and hammered -vigorously at the old boat. - -They went up through the fragrant garden, now heavy with evening -shadows. Above them the gaunt old house towered, bosomed in its trees, -dim with the night mist from the lough. Lights were beginning to twinkle -from the windows, and the faint acrid smell of turf fires stole upon the -still air. To Norah’s fancy the silent garden was peopled with shadowy -forms—tall gallants and exquisite ladies of a bygone day, and little -children who ran, laughing, along paths that had no tangle of neglected -growth. It was theirs; the dream visions made her feel an interloper as -she crossed the threshold into the lit hall. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - OF LITTLE BROWN TROUT - - - “Loughareema! Loughareema! - Lies so high among the heather, - A little lough, a dark lough, - The wather’s black an’ deep: - Ould herons go a-fishing there, - An’ sea-gulls all together - Float roun’ the one green island - On the fairy lough asleep.” - MOIRA O’NEIL. - -A WEEK went by with the mysterious swiftness of holiday weeks, -especially in Ireland. No one quite knew what became of the long June -days; they dawned in light mists that lay on the surface of Lough -Aniller, reddened with the sunrise, only to vanish as the sun mounted; -they widened to warm brightness, with clear blue skies flecked with the -tiniest cloudlets; and sank to long, delicious twilights, with just -enough chill in the air to make light coats necessary. No one was -inclined for strenuous exertion. Jim and Wally, under orders to take -life very easily for the present, were content to lie about in the -fragrant grass, to go for short walks along the borders of the lough, or -to let Patsy Burke row them slowly up its placid waters, where scarcely -a ripple marked the rising of a trout. To Norah and her father it was -sufficient happiness to watch their boys gradually winning back -strength. Each day that went by and brought no recurrence of -throat-trouble was something achieved; and the long, golden days -smoothed the weary lines from the boyish faces, and brought something of -the old tan into their cheeks. There was no doubt that as a sanatorium -Donegal merited all that had been claimed of her. - -They were the only guests in the old stone house. Later on, Mrs. Moroney -told them, people were coming from Dublin and Belfast: but the war had -temporarily killed the tourist traffic from England, and Irish fishing -was having a much-needed rest. - -“But for the fowl I have, indeed, I’d be hard put to it,” said Mrs. -Moroney. She reared innumerable ducks and chickens, and carried on a -thriving trade, sending them ready dressed to England—aided by a -parcels post system which, unlike that of Australia, does not appear to -regard the senders and receivers of parcels as wealthy eccentrics, to be -heavily charged, but otherwise unworthy of consideration. At all times -Mrs. Moroney was to be found plucking and dressing her wares—keeping, -nevertheless, an eagle eye upon her household, and always ready to take -interest in the doings of her guests. Good nature beamed from her -countenance, and chicken-fluff always ornamented her hair. - -Timsy had constituted himself Jim’s shadow, and courier-in-chief to the -party. He knew all the country with a boy’s knowledge, had an -acquaintance with the ways of trout which seemed miraculous in one of -his years, and cherished a feud of long standing with John Conolly, -whose treatment of the little ass did not come up to the standard -instilled into Timsy by the sergeant, now in France. All these matters -he placed at the absolute disposal of Jim. The rest of the party he -treated politely: they were well enough. But the big boy in khaki was -somehow different, and Timsy gave him all his warm little heart. - -It was a shock to him that Jim and Wally appeared in rough tweeds on the -morning after their arrival. - -“Where’s you uny-forms?” demanded Timsy, hopping on one foot on the -mossy path, rather like an impertinent sparrow. - -“Upstairs,” Jim said, solemnly. - -“Why for don’t you put ’em on?” - -“Didn’t want to.” - -Timsy surveyed him with a pained air. - -“Me daddy says uny-form had a right to be wore all the time,” he said. -“He didn’t have no uvver clothes when _he_ came home.” - -Jim relented at the small, worried face. - -“Tell you how it is, old man,” he said. “The old Germans laid us out; -and we’re going to get better as quick as we can, to go and lick them.” - -“Yes?” said Timsy, digging his heel into the earth, in bloodthirsty -ecstasy. “That’s what me daddy’s after doing.” - -“Of course he is. Well, we’ll get better quicker if we haven’t got to -wear heavy uniforms all the time, don’t you see? So we asked leave; and -a big general said we could put on other clothes. He was a very big -general, so it’s all right, isn’t it?” - -“Was he very big?” - -“Enormous,” said Jim, gravely. - -“If he was very ’normous, I ’spect it’s all right,” Timsy said, -relinquishing his point with reluctance. “Only I likes you best in -uny-forms.” His eye suddenly lit with new hope. “Do you think you’d wear -’em on Sunday, an’ you goin’ to church?” - -“I would,” Jim said. “There, it’s a bargain, Timsy.” So Timsy accepted -the tweed knickerbockers as necessary evils, and peace reigned. - -As for the trout, they had remained in peace. Patsy Burke had given the -Australians a few lessons in throwing a fly, a gentle art to which they -did not take very kindly, though they proved apt enough pupils. But the -trout were not rising, and they found it dull. Their previous experience -had been either the primitive method of a stick, a string, and a worm, -in the creeks at home, or a deep-sea hand-line with a substantial bait -and a heavy sinker. They liked these peaceful ways, and to them the -incessant business of casting seemed, in the Australian phrase, “too -much like hard work.” They endeavoured, however, to keep this view from -the scandalized Mr. Burke, whose scorn at the mere mention of a -hand-line was almost painful to witness. - -In defence of their apathy, it must be admitted that the sport was poor. -The weather had been unfavourable, and the brown trout declined to rise; -but even in the best of years Lough Aniller, the big lough by the house, -was not a good fishing lake. A few rises came to them, which they -missed: and they had the poor satisfaction of beholding Mr. Burke land a -specimen which weighed not quite a quarter of a pound. It did not seem, -to untutored eyes quite worth the candle. - -“’Tis a poor lake, anyways,” Mr. Burke said. They were paddling home in -the setting sun, the water full of bright reflections. “I dunno why the -trout wouldn’t be in it: it’s the biggest hereabouts, but they don’t -seem wishful for it at all. There’s Lough Nacurra and Lough -Anoor—they’re little enough, but you’d get finer fishing in them in a -day than in a week of Lough Aniller.” - -“Why don’t we go there?” spoke Wally, lazily. - -“There’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t. Sure, they’re no -distance, and the fishing belongs to the house; there’ll not be a rod on -them, barring your own.” - -“What do they mean, Patsy?” Norah asked. Mr. Burke was her instructor in -the Irish language, and she thirsted for translations of each unknown -word. - -“Lough Anoor’s the lough of the gold, miss, and Lough Nacurra’s the -lough of the Champions. I dunno why they have those names on them; -there’s a lot of ould stories goin’. Whatever reason anybody was to -give, no one could say it was wrong.” - -“Well, Lough Aniller means the lough of the Eagle, you said, Patsy, but -there don’t seem any eagles about.” - -“Thrue for ye,” agreed Mr. Burke; “they do not. But I wouldn’t wonder if -there was any amount of them here in the ould ancient times.” He scanned -the placid waters with disfavour. “There’s one thing they couldn’t call -it, and that’s Nabrack—the lough of the Trout!” - -“They certainly couldn’t—whoever ‘they’ may be,” said Wally, laughing. -“There are just about as many trout in this lough as there are in the -front garden, I believe. Who’ll come to one of the others -to-morrow?—I’ll have to learn their names before I say them in public. -I vote for the one that belongs to the Champions!” - -“Lough Nacurra—ye might do worse,” said Patsy. “’Tis a good little -lough, and there’s a small little island in it, that ’ud be a good place -for you to be taking your dinners. The boat’s no great thing at all—but -she’s better than the one on Lough Anoor.” - -“What!” exclaimed Mr. Linton. “Is she worse than this one?” The boat on -Lough Aniller had not struck the party as an up-to-date craft. - -“She is,” said Mr. Burke. “But there’s no distance to be pulling her: -sure, the lough’s not big enough to go any ways far. If ’twas Lough -Anoor, now, there’d be no good in me comin’ with you, for five couldn’t -sit in her. Four’ll be all she’ll hold.” - -“Is she safe?” asked Mr. Linton. - -“Is it safe? Sure, you wouldn’t sink that one, not if you danced in -her,” said Patsy. - -They had drifted almost to the end of the lough. Above them the high -road crossed the stone bridge. The whir of a motor hummed across it, -and, looking up, they saw a grey runabout car, driven by a man of whose -face little could be seen, since goggles hid his eyes and his cap was -pulled low. Patsy touched his cap hastily as the car vanished in its own -dust. - -“’Tis the young masther,” he said; and added, as if in further -explanation, “Sir John, I mean—Sir John O’Neill.” - -“Does he live here?” Norah asked. - -“He do, miss. But a lot of his time he’s somewhere else—London or -foreign parts.” - -“I thought every landowner about here had gone to the war,” Mr. Linton -said. - -“Begob, Sir John ’ud give the two eyes out of his head to be gone, too,” -said Patsy, shortly. “But they won’t take him. ’Tis—’tis weakly he is. -He have the spirit of ten men in him; them ould German’s ’ud find their -hands full, and they to be tackling him in a tight place. Well, -well—some people don’t get much luck.” He stopped short, and rowed -violently for some time. - -“Do you get many salmon here?” Jim asked, idly. It was evident that Mr. -Burke did not wish to pursue the subject of Sir John O’Neill. - -“In the river—but only a few,” replied the boatman. “’Twouldn’t be -worth your while getting a licence, sir. Sure it’s them ’ud give you a -different idea of fishing. I got one in Lough Illion, in Kerry, one time -when I was staying in them parts. That was the fish! He tuk me four and -a half hours to kill.” - -“Whew—w!” said Jim, respectfully. “He must have been a big fellow.” - -“Well, he was not that big at all; but he tuk the fly as if he meant it, -and down he went to the bottom like a shtone. An’ there he lay, and I -going round and round him in the boat, trying any ways to shift him, and -he sulking in the weeds. Banging my rod I was, and pelting at him all -the bits of rock I had in the boat, and I couldn’t shtir him. I was -famished out, for it was pegging hailshtones and sleet. At last he come -up; and then he thought better of it, when he saw the sky above him, and -he was going down again, and I let a dhrive at him with the gaff, and -got him just near the tail—great luck I had with him, to be sure.” - -“It was about time you did have some luck,” Jim remarked. - -“There’s not many of them ’ud sulk like that,” said Patsy. “Generally -they’d be tiring themselves with the runs they’s take at the first. And -if they thrun a lep or two—’tis the lep takes most out of them: it -breaks their courage. There’s nothing like a salmon, to my way of -thinking, though there’s a lot of the gentry do be sticking to the -little brown trout. Will ye be for Lough Nacurra in the morning, sir?” - -“We will—if you’ll promise us fish,” Jim responded. - -“It ’ud be a bold man to promise anything this weather,” said Patsy, -looking with disfavour at the clear sky and the placid lough. -“Still-an’-all, ’tis a good lough; if they’re rising anywhere it’ll be -on Nacurra.” - -Morning came with a haze lying on the blue hills, and a fitful breeze: -the best fishing day yet, Patsy pronounced it, as he shouldered a -gigantic luncheon-basket and led the way down the avenue and along the -dusty high road. They struck across the bog presently, following a path -that led through a tangle of the sweet bog-myrtle; and, in a little -harbour of smooth grey stones at the western end of Lough Nacurra, came -upon their boat, half-concealed among the rushes fringing the water’s -edge. The lough was a long narrow sheet of water, widening a little at -the far end, where a thickly-wooded island showed dimly through the -haze. - -“Have you been storing water in the boat?” Jim inquired, gravely, -surveying the ancient craft among the rushes. Its bottom timbers bore -evidence of long soaking. - -“Tis a thrifle of dampness she have in her,” admitted Mr. Burke, -stepping in carefully and getting to work with a baling-tin. “I’m after -sending John Conolly up only this morning to bale her out, but he’s the -champion at scamping a job. Ah, she’ll dry out beautifully in the sun, -sir, once I have her emptied. There now—let you get in gently, sir.” - -“I will,” said Mr. Linton, placing his feet with extreme caution, and -coming to rest thankfully in the stern. “I don’t want to begin the day -with a ducking, and those bottom boards look as if they would crumble -under my weight. Take care, Wally—this is a craft to be treated with -respect.” - -“Have you drowned many in this one?” queried Jim. - -Mr. Burke emitted a deep chuckle. - -“Yerra, you will have your joke, sir!” he said, making hasty repairs to -a rowlock that chiefly consisted of rusty wire, of which more than one -strand had broken away. “There’s many a good fish killed in worse boats -than this. A lick of paint, now, and you wouldn’t know her.” - -“I wouldn’t call her a boat at all,” retorted Jim, disposing his long -legs so as to avoid, as far as possible, the steadily increasing -dampness in the bottom. “She’s a hoary antique, and she ought to be in a -museum; but if you say she’ll stay afloat, Patsy, we’re game. Lend me -that baling-tin while you’re rowing, and I’ll try to discourage the -lough from entering.” - -Mr. Linton declined to fish, remarking that he preferred to be ready to -swim when necessary, and would meanwhile officiate as baler as soon as -Jim was ready to get to work with his rod. Patsy pulled out gently, -until they were clear of rushes. A light wind rippled the water, sending -tiny wavelets lapping against the sides of the boat; overhead, clouds -drifted across a soft blue sky and now and then blotted out the sun. The -hills sloping down to the lough on three sides were half shrouded in -haze. - -“’Tis a perfect fishing-day,” Patsy pronounced, shipping his oars and -letting the boat drift gently. “If there was a little more wind itself -ye’d soon have a tremenjious basket of fish.” - -Patsy’s predictions were by this time well known to the Australians. He -suffered, as Wally said, from enthusiasms, and all his geese were swans; -so that his cheerful forecast raised no throb of hope in their hearts. -He had been as cheerful on other mornings, when they had fished in vain. - -“I don’t quite see the fascination of it,” Wally commented, after ten -minutes of steady whipping the water. “It’s so continuous; and you get -nothing for it.” - -“Give me a good sinker and a plump slab of clam for a bait—and the -schnapper on the bite,” Jim responded. “I don’t believe these trout know -how to bite at all.” - -“You don’t say bite—it’s ‘rise,’” said Norah, gloomily. - -“Why?” - -“I don’t know. Perhaps because they don’t bite. They certainly don’t.” - -“They do not,” Wally agreed. “Perhaps they rise and saunter past this -queer collection of sham insects that we dangle on the face of the -waters: and if you have luck you hook them as they go by. Only we don’t -have luck.” - -They fished on, sadly, casting with a precision that won commendation -from Mr. Burke, and to which long practice with a stock whip had -probably contributed. Nothing occurred, except the end of the lough: -whereupon Patsy resumed the oars, rowed to the end whence they had -started, and began up drift again. - -“Do people do this all day—for weeks?” Norah demanded. - -“Yerra, they do, miss.” - -“Well, what do they do it _for_?” Norah said, desperately. “I don’t see -any fun at all. I’m going to take the oars presently, Patsy, and you can -have my rod.” - -“If ever I put hard-earned pay into contraptions like this again!” Jim -uttered, gazing despondently on the dainty ten feet green-heart rods, -new and workmanlike with their fresh tackle. “They looked just top-hole -in the shop, and they do still; but that’s all there is about them. I -vote we go and scramble over a heathery mountain or two, and stop -whipping this old lough.” - -“Hear, hear!” said Wally. “Let’s get Patsy to put us ashore at the lower -end, and we’ll leave the trout to some one else. I’m blessed if I fish -again until we get back to the creek at Billabong—with a worm and a -sinker, and a nice little cork bobbing on the top of the water. No -science, but you get fish. These old Irish trout—my aunt!” - -His reel whirred suddenly under his hand, and his rod bent double. There -was a swirl in the water. The line ran out sharply, and something that -was living gold in the sunlight leaped, flashed for an instant, and was -gone again. Patsy uttered a howl. - -“Leave him run, sir!—give and take! Reel in when the strain is off him. -Aisy now, sir!” - -“Off him!” gasped Wally. “Why, he pulls like a working bullock! Won’t -the rod break?” - -“It will not,” said Patsy. “Drop the point, sir, if he leps. Yerra, sure -that’s a fine grand trout ye have—did ye see the great splashing rise -he made to ye? Howld him, sir—he’ll get off on ye if ye slacken too -much. Wind in when ye get a chanst, and bring him nice and aisy to the -boat—I have the net ready.” - -“Bring him to the boat!—it’s himself that’s doing all the bringing!” -uttered Wally. “Tell me if I’m messing it up, Patsy.” - -“Begob, you’re doing fine!” said Patsy—“ye’re playing him beautiful. -Give and take, and his head’ll come up presently—don’t be afraid if he -do run from ye. Oh, murder, there’s the little mistress got one too!” - -Norah’s reel sang suddenly, and a fish went off astern. The owner of the -rod made a wild effort to play him sitting down, and then stood up, her -rod describing erratic circles while Mr. Linton grasped her skirt in a -desperate effort to steady her. - -“I’m all right, daddy!” she gasped. “Oh, such a beauty—I know he weighs -a ton!” - -“Let him go, miss!” shouted Patsy, rendered desperate by the -hopelessness of coaching two novices at once. “Give him his head—he’ll -come back to ye. There y’are, sir—did ye see his head come up?—wind -him in! No, not you, miss—let him have his run: sure that one won’t be -tired this long while, by the looks of him. Oh, murder, sir, is he gone -from you?”—as the trout made a fresh dash for freedom and fled under -the boat. “No,—howld on to the vilyun an’ he’ll be back. Kape a nice, -steady strain on him, miss—give and take.” He hovered over the side, -feverishly grasping the handle of the landing-net. “Ye have him bet, -sir—here he comes. Nice and aisy does it—don’t hurry him—kape your -point up. Back a little—ah, I have him!” - -The net slipped under Wally’s fish deftly. Simultaneously, Norah’s trout -executed a wild leap, and Norah reeled him, quite involuntarily, near -the boat. Patsy, responding gallantly to her cry for help, dropped the -first trout hastily, and turned just in time to net the second, by sheer -good luck. The excitement of the moment overcame him, and Norah’s fish, -falling upon Wally’s, entangled both casts and lines by a few frantic -leaps, before Patsy could collect himself sufficiently to pounce upon -them. The boat rocked with enthusiasm. Jim had prudently reeled in, to -be out of the way of possible happenings, and stood, beaming, while the -victorious anglers looked at each other with parted lips and shining -eyes, and Mr. Burke wailed and triumphed alternately. - -“Wirra, but them lines is destroyed on us! Oh, the grand fish, -entirely!—would ye get as good now, sir, with your sinkers and your big -lump of bait! An’ you played ’em fine, both of ye! Lave off flopping, -will ye, and let me get a howlt of the fly—begob, he have it ate, no -less!” Norah’s trout was put out of its misery by a quick blow on a -thwart, and the fly rescued. “There you are, miss, and he well over a -pound if he’s an ounce!” - -“Oh, daddy, isn’t he a beauty!” - -“He is, indeed,” Mr. Linton said, looking at the golden-brown fish, with -his splendid spots. “I never saw a handsomer fellow. Is yours as good -Wally?” - -“Betther, I believe,” boomed Patsy, a vision of triumph. “They might be -mates—but Mr. Wally’s is bigger. Have ye the little spring-balance, -sir? Ye’d ought to weigh them.” - -“I have it,” Wally said. “Eighteen ounces, Nor,—and mine’s a pound and -a half. Well-l!” He drew a long breath. “If ever I say a word against my -little rod again!” - -“Oh, wasn’t it glorious!” Norah uttered. “Will those lines ever come -clear, Patsy?” - -“Yerra, they will. Have patience, miss, and I’ll get them undone in no -time. Cast away now, Mr. Jim—and heaven send he do not land his on the -top of this tangle!” added Mr. Burke, in pious hope. - -“Hurry up, Jim—it’s the best fun since we went bombing!” said Wally. -“Gives you a feeling like nothing on earth, and the little rod’s just a -live thing in your hands. Glory! there’s one at you—ah, the brute!” as -a big trout rose at Jim’s fly, missed, and went down, giving a full view -of his beautiful speckled side. - -“Cast over him again, Mr. Jim—that one’ll come back,” Patsy whispered. -“Gently—ah, that’s the lovely throw!” The flies settled gently on the -water, but the trout failed to respond. “Thry him again, sir—that’s it; -dhraw them back quiet, now. Begob, he have him—howld him, sir! Hark at -the little wheel singing: isn’t that the fine run he made! Wind him -in—don’t check him sudden.” Mr. Burke babbled on happily until the -third big trout lay gasping in the landing-net. - -“Didn’t I tell you there’d be trout in Lough Nacurra?” he demanded. “Oh, -the beauties! them’s the grand fish, entirely, no matter where you’d be -fishing. Let ye cast out again, sir. Aisy, Miss Norah, let be—sure I’ll -have it for ye quicker than ye would yourself. There’s the terrible -tangle now; ye’d not get it in a knot like that, not if ye tried for a -week. And is it in Australia you’d get them like that, with a stick and -a sinker and a lump of bait? and play them too, same as ye did them -there? Well, well, that must be the fine country!” - -Mr. Linton laughed. - -“Oh there’s plenty of good trout-fishing in Australia, Patsy, and plenty -of people who use the proper tackle. But it doesn’t happen to be in our -part of the country.” - -“Ye’ll not beat Irish trout, anywheres in the world,” said Mr. Burke, -shortly. “Them new countries is all very well in their way, but give me -the ould places I’m after knowing all my life.” He drew a long breath. -“There—I have them untwisted at last: and more by token, here we are at -the end of the lough.” He fixed Wally with an inquiring gaze. “It was -here you wanted to be landed, sir, wasn’t it? Will I take down the rod -and put you ashore?” - -Wally grinned in appreciation. - -“It’s your game, Patsy,” he admitted, cheerfully. “I take it all back. -If you’ll just hand me that rod again, you won’t get me off this lough -before dark!” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - LOUGH ANOOR - - - “A capital ship for an ocean trip - Was the Walloping Window-Blind.” - _Students’ Song._ - -FROM that day the spell of the little brown trout laid itself upon the -Australians. The basket of fish which they carried home with pride in -the evening, and which caused Mrs. Moroney to call upon the saints to -protect her, was the forerunner of many, since the weather was kind and -Lough Nacurra had profited by its war-time rest to become the happiest -of hunting grounds. Day after day, with and without Mr. Burke, whose -multifarious duties often called him elsewhere, they visited the little -lough in the bog, until they knew all its best spots as well as Patsy -himself, and were familiar with every inch of the wooded island where -they generally landed for lunch. With the fever of fishing came to them -the patience which—curiously enough—accompanies it, making them -content to sit hour after hour if rewarded with an occasional rise: -since no lough on this side of Paradise could be expected to live up to -the first spectacular minutes in which Lough Nacurra had claimed them -for its own. Nevertheless, the little lough held well; and trout figured -largely on the table for breakfast and dinner, insomuch that Mrs. -Moroney confided to Bridget that ’twas the grand guests they were to be -keeping down the expense—a remark retailed to Jim by Timsy, in such -innocent certainty that his friend would be pleased, that Jim could not -find it in his heart to rebuke him for repeating what he was not meant -to hear. - -Day by day the air of moorland and mountain worked the boys’ cure. -Strength came back to them quickly, with long days in the open and long -nights of quiet sleep. War seemed very far away. Papers came -irregularly, and the younger members of the party were very willing to -let Mr. Linton read them and tell them anything startling, without -troubling about details. Little by little, the horror of the gas faded; -they ceased to dream about it, a nightly torment which had kept them -back for the first weeks. The regiment was having a much-needed rest in -billets: Anstruther, Garrett, and their other chums were fit and well, -and longing for another chance of coming to grips with the enemy. Much -of the horror of Gallipoli Mr. Linton succeeded in keeping from them: -too many of their school-fellows lay dead upon that most cruel of -battlefields, and he suppressed the papers that gave details of the -losses. The fog of war always hangs closely: it was easy to make it hide -from his boys details of the news that had plunged Australia alike into -mourning and into deeper resolve to see the thing through. - -For Norah and her father the time was an oasis of peace in a desert of -anxiety. Too soon they must send Jim and Wally back, and themselves -return to work and wait in London. Now, nothing mattered greatly, and -they could try to forget. It was not the least of David Linton’s -happiness that each day brought back light to Norah’s eyes and colour to -her cheeks. - -So they played about Ireland as they had played all their lives in -Australia. The Irish blood that was in them made them curiously at home; -they liked the simple, kindly country-folk, and found a ready welcome in -the scattered cottages, where already Norah had made friends with at -least half a dozen babies. Her education developed on new lines: she -picked up a good deal of Irish, and became steeped in the innumerable -legends of the country, not in the least realizing that in being told -the “ould ancient” stories she was being paid a compliment for which the -average tourist might sigh in vain,—for the Irish peasant is jealous of -his folk-stories, and seldom tells them to anyone not of the country. In -the great stone kitchen Mrs. Moroney gave her lessons in the manufacture -of potato-cakes, colcannon, soda-bread, and other national delicacies, -and, with old Nanny the cook, listened to stories of Australia with -frequent ejaculations of “God help us!” while Jim and Wally talked much -to Patsy Burke and John Conolly, and to the men in the villages, doing a -little recruiting work as occasion offered. They also talked of -Australia, since they could not help it, and became at times slightly -confused as to the number of men for whom they had promised to find work -after the war, on Billabong, if possible. However, as Jim said -resignedly if Billabong overflowed with men, there were other -places—Australia was large and empty. They could all come. - -“Are you there, Norah? Coo-ee!” - -An answering “Coo-ee!” came from one of the mouldering summer-houses in -the garden, and Wally plunged down the overgrown walk in its direction. -Norah was not in the summer-house, which she described as an insecty -place, but cross-legged on a sunny patch of grass behind it, surrounded -by innumerable letters. The Australian mail had arrived that morning; -and, since mails in war time were apt to be “hung up” until a ship could -be found to take them, letters were wont to accumulate in alarming -quantities. - -“Good gracious, are you still reading?” inquired Wally. “I finished all -mine ages ago: not that I ever get such awful bundles as you do. Jim and -your father are plunged in business letters, and I’m like Mary’s little -lamb, or Bo-Peep’s sheep, or whichever mutton it was that got lost.” - -“Poor old thing!” said Norah, absently. “Never mind; sit down and read -dear old Brownie’s letter. It takes one straight back to Billabong.” - -“Well, that’s no bad thing—though I’d like to see a little more of -Ireland,” said Wally, subsiding upon grass. “Poor old Brownie! can’t you -see her, Nor, struggling over this in the kitchen at home. She’d be so -much happier over tackling a day’s baking.” - -“She would, indeed,” Norah assented, her eyes a little misty. She -touched the scrawled pages of the old nurse-housekeeper’s letter, her -hand resting on it as though it were a living thing. Brownie had been -all the mother she had known, and the bond between them was very close. -The ill-written sheets brought vividly to her the kind old face, beaming -with love as she had always known it. - -“Dear Miss Norah,” began Brownie, with due formality. Then the formality -slumped. - - “My dearie, the place is lost without you all everyone arsks me - as soon as the male comes wots in the letters and are you coming - back soon the hot whether is over thang goodness and we have had - good rain and the place is lookin splendid all the horses are in - great condishun and Murty says to tell you Bosun is fit to jump - out of his skin Murty won’t let anyone but himself ride him or - Garyowin or Monnuk or the chesnet colt and it keeps him pretty - busy keepin them all exercised. Black Billy is no better than he - was he is a limb and no mistake it will be a mersy when Mr. Jim - comes back to keep that boy in order and your Pa too he will not - take no notice of anyone else. We are always wonderin and hopin - about the war will it soon be over and that old Kyser hung and - how are Mr. Jim and Mr. Wally we all know they will fight as - well as any Englishman or any two Germans. But the best of all - will be when the old war is over and you all come home to - Billabong tell Mr. Wally I have not forgot to make pikelits like - he likes they will be waiting for him we got their photergrafs - in uniform and dont they look beautiful only so grown up I keep - thinking of them just little boys ridin the ponies like they - always was in short pants and socks and plenty of darnin they - give me to do which it was always a pleasure I’m sure do they - look after you well in that old London i hope they feed you - proply in that big hotel im told their sheets is always damp do - be careful dearie. We try to look after everything the way the - master and Mr. Jim would like it juring their absence Murty is - sendin word about the stock so i will leave that part of it - aloan the garden is lookin grand the ortum roses all out just - blazin along the walls and fences there are other flowers but - its no good i cant spell them not being no hand with the pen but - you will know them all without me tellin the dogs are well but - they miss you like all the rest of us also the Wallerby and so - my dearie no more at present only come back soon we all send our - love and hoppin you are well - - “BROWNIE.” - -Wally put down the letter, after folding it slowly. Norah, who had read -it again over his shoulder, put out her hand for it and tucked it into -the pocket of her coat. Neither spoke for awhile. Ireland had faded -away: they saw only a long low house with a garden blazing with roses—a -kitchen, spotless and shining, where an old woman laboured mightily with -the pen. She was a fat old woman, plain and unromantic and very -practical; but the thought of her brought home-sickness sharply to the -boy and girl sitting on the green slope of Irish turf. - -“She’s an old brick,” said Wally, presently. “By Jove, Nor, won’t it be -jolly to go back when all this show is over! It makes one feel sort of -jumpy to think of driving up to Billabong again!” - -“’M,” assented Norah, lucidly. Speech was a little difficult just then. -Presently she laughed. - -“Australian mail-days are lovely, but they always hurt a bit, too. Never -mind, we’ll all go home together some day, and Billabong will go quite -mad, and it will be worth having been away. What do we do this morning, -Mr. Second-Lieutenant Meadows?” - -“Well, I don’t know,” Wally answered. “I think you’d better choose your -own amusement, Miss Linton-of-Billabong, and I’ll fall in with it -meekly. Jim and your father have shut themselves up with piles of -business letters and stock reports and things like that, and can’t come -out before lunch.” - -“Bother the old business!” said Norah, inelegantly, wrinkling her nose, -as was her way in deep thought. “Wally, why shouldn’t we try Lough -Anoor?” - -“That’s rather an idea—especially as Patsy’s engaged to-day, and can’t -act as boatman. We could paddle round and try Lough Anoor by ourselves. -It won’t do Lough Nacurra any harm to have a rest.” - -“No; we’ve fished it pretty steadily lately,” Norah agreed. “It would be -rather fun to try a new place. I’d like to take Timsy, if you don’t -mind, Wally. He’s such a jolly little chap, and it would be a tremendous -treat for him.” - -“Good idea!” agreed Wally. “Great man, Timsy; he’ll take charge of us -and run the whole show, and be entirely happy. Will you find him, Nor, -while I get the rods and basket?” - -Timsy was never difficult to find, when the seekers were the -Australians. He was digging his bare brown toes into the gravel by the -front door when Norah and Wally emerged from the garden. - -“Are you busy to-day, Timsy?” asked Norah, gravely. One of the things -that Timsy liked about these people from the other side of the world was -that they always treated him as an equal in age and sense, and did not -“talk down” to him. He had bitter memories of an English visitor who had -addressed him as “Little boy,” and of an elderly lady who had patted him -on the head, and called him “dear.” His blood still boiled when he -thought of it. - -“I am not,” he replied. “I’m after catching all the chickens me mother -wants,—and ’twas themselves give me a fine hunt. Chickens do be always -knowing when they’re wanted to be kilt.” - -“Then you can’t blame them for running,” said Norah. “No more jobs, -Timsy?” - -“There is not, miss. Me mother’s after telling me to get out and play.” - -“Mr. Wally and I are going to fish Lough Anoor,” Norah said. “We haven’t -been there yet, and we don’t know much about it. Would you care to come, -too, Timsy?” - -Swift delight leaped to the small boy’s eyes. - -“Is it me? Sure, wouldn’t I be in your way, miss?” - -“Why, you’ll be very useful,” said Norah. “You’d to come?” - -“Like!” said Timsy. Words failed him, and he could only beam at them -speechlessly. As they disappeared into the house they heard suppressed -yelps of joy, and presently, from the front windows, beheld Timsy -energetically turning handsprings on the path, in the effort to relieve -his overcharged feelings. - -They took the track across the bog leading to Lough Nacurra, skirted it, -following a sheep-path along the shore, and mounted a rise. Below them -lay the little lough they sought, a jewel in a setting of gently-rolling -hills. In one corner a number of queer, gnarled objects showed above the -surface of the water. - -“What are those, Timsy?” Wally asked. - -“They’s ould limbs of trees, sir; the lough does be low, and them ould -things sticks out. Me daddy says there was a mighty big forest here, one -time: there’s bog-wood everywhere in this part. There’s a small little -landing-stage near them, where the boat is.” - -They plunged down hill. Arrived at the boat, Wally whistled long and -low. - -“It must be a boat, I suppose,” he said, doubtfully. “Timsy said it was, -and he ought to know. But—Did you ever see anything quite like it, -Nor?” - -“I did not,” Norah said. - -The boat was flat-bottomed, clumsily and heavily built. The paint which -had originally declared her a white vessel had long ago peeled off or -faded to a yellowish grey. She squatted on the water like a very flat -duck, and water lay in her, and evidently had lain long. There were no -oars, and nothing that could be used to bale. Altogether, no craft could -have looked less tempting. - -“Well, Jim reckoned the boat on Lough Aniller bad, and the Nacurra one -only fit for a museum,” Wally said. “I’d like him to see this one: it -would do his old heart good. Timsy, how does one row a boat in this -country when there are no oars?” - -Timsy, thus appealed to, gave as his opinion that the paddles would be -up at Michael McCarthy’s house, beyant; further, that if Patsy knew how -the said Michael McCarthy had the boat left, he’d have him destroyed. -“Let ye sit down, sir, and Miss Norah, too,” concluded the small boy, -shouldering the burden of the responsibility. “I’ll slip up and bring -the paddles and a baling-tin down in no time at all.” - -“You won’t,” said Wally, firmly. “I’m in this job, Timsy. Come along and -we’ll interview Mr. McCarthy.” - -That gentleman, however, was from home, his place being taken by a lame -son, who produced two oars which were not even distantly related to each -other, remarking that his father was wore out with keeping the boat in -order for the gentry, and none of them coming anigh her. When Wally -demanded a baling-tin, he cast about him a wild glance which finally -rested on an excellent tin dipper which presumably belonged to his -mother. - -“Herself is away with the hins—let you take it,” he said, thankfully. -“Hiven send she do not come back on me before you’d be gone!” - -With this pious hope echoing in their ears, the marauding party -withdrew, Timsy racing ahead with the dipper, lest “herself” should make -an untimely appearance and demand her cherished vessel. When Norah and -Wally arrived at the boat he was baling furiously, and clung to his job -until he was too breathless to argue the question further with Wally. - -A flat-bottomed boat, built on elementary principles, is not the easiest -thing to empty. They tilted her sideways, getting very wet in the -process, and wielded the dipper until it scraped dismally against the -boards; but a large residue of water still lingered, defying anything -but a pump or a bath-sponge, equipment which they lacked. When they -restored her to an even keel the water slapped dismally across the -sodden bottom boards. - -“I’m afraid we’ll never get her dry,” Wally said, ruefully. “Tell you -what, Norah—I’ll put in a few bits of wood, and you can put your feet -on them; that will keep them out of the water, at any rate.” - -Wood is scarce in Donegal. There was not a bit to be found except the -tough lumps of bog-wood sticking out of the water, and of these Wally -managed to secure enough for his purpose. - -“They aren’t lovely,” he said, looking at the uneven logs. “Still, they -ought to keep your feet dry, and that’s something.” He worked the -unwieldy boat round until her stern pointed to the shore, so that Norah -could get in without being compelled to walk along the wet floor. Timsy -hopped in, bare-legged and cheery, and they shoved off, moving gingerly -among the half-submerged wood, which threatened momentarily to rip a -hole in the rotten flooring. - -“I’d hate to say a word against Ireland,” Wally remarked. “But you’d -wonder why they’d build the landing-stage in the very middle of a -submerged forest.” - -“The stones did be a thrifle more convanient there.” Timsy offered as a -solution. - -“Well—maybe. Still it would be no great lift to take them a little -further,” said Wally. “Does the boat never get snagged, Timsy?” - -“She do, sir. Many’s the time me daddy’s mended her, and he at home. -There’s no one to do it now, till I get a bit bigger—Patsy he’s -destroyed with work, he says, and he can’t be lugging tools all this -way, says he. And that Michael McCarthy, he’s no use at all in the -world.” Timsy knitted his brows, a worried little figure. “It’ll be a -good thing when the ould war is over and all them Germans kilt. Then me -daddy’ll come back and fix everything.” - -“Would you rather he hadn’t gone, Timsy?” - -The small boy’s lip trembled. - -“’Twas awful when he went. Me mother cried, and so did old Nanny and -Bridget. But me mother and me daddy they says there’s no dacint man can -stop out of it. I wisht I was big enough to go too. Will they take -drummer-boys in your regiment, Mr. Wally? I’m pretty big when I howld -meself straight.” - -“I’m afraid you’ve got to be a bit bigger yet, old man,” Wally told him. -“But you’ve got to be here, to keep an eye on the place; it must be a -great comfort to your daddy to know you’re here, to look after your -mother. There must be a certain number of fellows at home to mind -Ireland in case the Germans should send troops here, you know; so we -leave those at home who are too young or too old to march fast, and -carry heavy loads, and do rough digging. You’re doing your bit as long -as you’re helping at home.” - -“Is that so, truly?” said Timsy, much cheered. “And could I go when I’m -bigger?” - -“Of course you could, if the war is still there,” Wally answered, -cheerfully. “Only we hope it won’t be. You’ll be able to fight much -better in the next war if you have your daddy home to train you first. -It isn’t every fellow who can have a sergeant all on himself to train -him, you know.” - -“I’d be in great luck, wouldn’t I?” said the small boy, hopefully. “But -sure, we’ll all be in the heighth of luck once we get daddy home.” - -Wally had poled the old boat out of the submerged trees, with many a -bump and scrape that made him look apprehensively at the boards. The -gaunt and stunted tree-ghosts ceased, and the water deepened, so he took -to the oars. They pulled up against a freshening breeze to the head of -the lough, where Wally shipped the paddles thankfully. - -“That’s a great pair of oars,” said he. “One weighs a ton and the other -only a hundredweight, so pulling becomes a matter of scientific -adjustment. Well, we’ll drift down, Nor, and see what Lough Anoor -holds.” - -That the little lough held trout was made clear within the first five -minutes, when a fish rose at Norah, who struck too hard and missed it, -to her intense disgust. Luck favoured her, however, for it was a hungry -trout and came at her gamely on the next cast, this time departing with -an annoying mouthful of steel and feathers instead of the plump fly he -had hoped to engulf. He came to the surface after an exciting few -minutes, and, being very thoroughly hooked, survived three ineffectual -attempts by Wally to get the landing-net under him. The fourth landed -him in the bottom of the boat, both operators slightly breathless, while -Timsy, scarlet with excitement, jigged on his seat and uttered sage -counsel which no one heard. - -“Awfully sorry, Nor,—I nearly lost that fellow for you,” Wally -exclaimed. “Scooping up a jumping fish with that old net is much harder -than playing him, I think: I have the utmost respect for Patsy every -time he uses it. Never saw him make a mistake yet. I say, young Norah, -what’s the good of my putting down a floor of bog-wood for you? Your -feet are soaking!” - -Norah glanced down, still flushed with the pride of capture. - -“I’m sorry, truly,” she said, laughing. “You see, I can’t possibly play -a fish sitting down; I’ve just _got_ to stand up. And I tried to stand -on those old lumps of wood, but they simply turned over and deposited me -in the water. Never mind, Wally, it isn’t the first time I’ve had wet -feet.” - -“Don’t go and collect a cold, or your father and Jim will have my -blood,” said Wally, doubtfully. “You’ll have to land and run about if -you get chilly.” - -“If I said, ‘Land my grandmother!’ it would be rude, so I won’t,” said -Norah, who was casting again vigorously. “Quick, Wally, there’s a rise -near you!”—and Mr. Meadows forgot prudence in the excitement of trout. -At the end of the drift the basket held four fish, while a fifth had -made his escape at the very edge of the boat, and was doubtless in some -snug hole, reflecting on the Providence which helps little trout by -entrusting the landing-net to inexperienced hands. - -The wind had risen, and to pull the heavy, water-logged old boat up the -lough was no easy task. There was no rudder, and she steered very badly, -her awkwardness intensified by the unequal oars. The waves slapped -against her side, and occasionally flung in a little cloud of spray, and -she leaked fast. Norah baled energetically, with poor results. - -“She’s a noble vessel,” said Wally, pulling with a will. “Feel her -wallow in the trough of these silly little waves. I guess we’ll call her -‘The Walloping Window-Blind,’ Nor, after the boat in the song. Can you -swim, Timsy?” - -“I cannot, sir,” said Timsy, grinning. “Sure that one won’t sink on us.” - -“Blest if I know,” Wally answered, doubtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised -at any old thing she’d do. Anyhow, Miss Norah and I can rescue you if -she goes down; and the water isn’t very cold. Timsy, did you ever hear -the sergeant’s opinion of this boat?” - -Timsy’s grin widened. - -“I did, sir,” he said, with probably prudent reticence. “Sure, there’s -no one does be liking her in these parts. She’s not an aisy puller at -all.” - -“True for you,” said Wally, panting. “Thank goodness, here’s the end of -the lough. Hurry up, Nor, she’ll drift back quickly before this wind, -and they ought to be rising.” His flies whistled out over the dancing -water. - -“If you’d let me have the net itself I could be landing the fish for -you,” said Timsy, eagerly. “I’ve landed ’em for me daddy many a time—he -taught me.” - -“Good man—what the sergeant taught you is good enough for us,” said -Wally. “Stand by, then—I’ve got a beauty on. He’s pulling like fury.” -He played the fish dexterously, his keen, brown face eager. “Come on, -you monster—I’d bet he weighs a pound, Norah! Ready, Timsy?—he’s about -done—ah, good kid!” as the small boy slipped the net under the -struggling fish with all the deftness of Mr. Burke himself. “Oh, a -beauty! And to think we used to imagine that a hand-line was sport!” - -“You live and learn,” said Norah, sagely. “That’s the biggest yet, -Wally, and didn’t he fight! Oh, I’ve got one!—be ready, Timsy.” - -Timsy crouched, alert, his hard little hand gripping the net. The fish -was a strong one and fought hard for his life; again and again he ran -the line out, even when almost at the side of the boat. Norah reeled him -in at last, almost done, but still fighting. - -“Oh, be careful, and he lepping!” Timsy uttered. “If you take the strain -off when he’s hooked slightly he’ll get off on you. Isn’t he the great -fighter entirely! Quick, miss, I’ll get him!” - -He dived at him with the net. The trout leaped to one side, a wave -hiding his flashing golden-brown body; and Timsy, following a thought -too far, overbalanced, and shot head first into the water. Wally, -casting in the bow, did not see. Norah had a moment’s vision of the -slight childish body as the brown water closed over him. He had not -uttered a sound. - -“Wally, quick—the oars!” she gasped, dropping her rod. The boat was -drifting fast before the wind. She watched, knowing that Timsy would be -far beyond their reach when he came to the surface. Then the little head -appeared for an instant and she sprang into the water. - -A year earlier, Wally would have followed without a thought. But -training and experience had steadied him; he knew that in the boat he -would be far more use than in the rough water, with the wind taking the -‘Walloping Window-Blind,’ their one refuge, swiftly away from them. He -flung himself at the oars and steadied her, watching, his heart in his -mouth. Norah swam like a fish, he knew; but the water was rough, and -Timsy would be a dead weight, even supposing that she had been able to -grip him. - -Then, to his utter relief, the two heads broke the water together. He -heard Norah’s voice: “Hold my shoulder, Timsy—you’re all right. Don’t -be scared.” - -“I’ll be beside you in a second, Nor,” Wally shouted. “Just keep -paddling.” He pulled the clumsy boat frantically up the lough, and let -her drop down to Norah, shipping the oars as he reached her. Leaning -over, he gripped Timsy firmly. - -“Hold on to the kid, and I’ll pull you both to the boat,” he said. “Can -you catch it?—I’ve got him.” He waited until Norah’s hand gripped the -side. “That’s right—let him go. Come on, Timsy.” He hauled the silent -small boy into the boat and turned back to Norah. “Hang on to me, old -girl—thank goodness we can’t pull this old tub over.” - -There was a struggle, and Norah came over the side, scrambling in with -difficulty. - -“Is Timsy all right?” - -“I am, miss,” said a small voice, between chattering teeth. - -Wally flung off his coat, and wrapped it round the child. - -“Poor old chap—that will keep the wind off you a bit,” he said. “Norah, -get hold of the oars and pull in—you’ll be nearly as quick as I would -be, and it will keep you warmer. My Aunt! that kid hung on to the -landing-net all the time! Well, you are a good sort, Timsy!” - -“I dunno why would I let it go,” shivered Timsy. “Bad enough for me to -be such an omadhaun, to be falling in—and herself going after me! Me -mother’ll be fit to tear the face off me!” - -“She’ll be too glad to see you alive,” said Wally, reassuringly. -“We’ll——” - -Timsy interrupted him with a cry. He caught Norah’s neglected rod. - -“Howly Mother, but the fish is in it yet!” he shouted. “Oh, will ye -come, please, sir!” - -They landed the trout between them, Timsy recovering some measure of his -self-respect by being allowed to use the net. - -“He had it nearly swallowed—if he hadn’t, he’d have been gone this long -time,” he chattered, watching Wally disengage the hook. “Isn’t it the -grand luck we’re in! and he the beautifullest trout! Oh, why would I -want to be falling in, and the fish rising!” He looked wistfully at -Norah. “Tis all wet ye are, and the day spoilt on ye,” he said, sadly. -“You won’t never take me out again, Miss Norah.” - -“Won’t we just!” said Norah, smiling at him through a tangle of wet -hair. “We don’t get out of friends because of a trifle like that, -Timsy.” She brought the “Walloping Window-Blind” floundering against the -shore. “There! it would warm an iceberg to pull that old tub. Come -along, Timsy, and I’ll race you home.” - -Wally put a detaining hand on her arm as he turned from securing the -boat. - -“Sure you’re all right, Nor?” - -“Right as—as anything,” said Norah, laughing at the anxious face. “I -believe you’re growing careful, Wally—what’s come to you?” - -“It’s all very well,” said Wally, unhappily. “Do you think it’s jolly -for a fellow to see you pitching into a beastly lough? And I’m going -home dry, and you and the kid wet. If there was any sense in it I’d jump -in and get wet, too!” - -“Only there isn’t,” said Norah—“and it was lucky for the two wet ones -that you were dry in the boat. An old and hardened warrior like you -ought to have more common sense.” - -“I suppose I ought,” said Wally, relapsing into a smile. “Only . . . Oh, -well. Now we’ve got to run, or we’ll never catch young Timsy.” - - - - -[Illustration: “Norah had read it over his shoulder.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page 118_ - - - - -[Illustration: “Then the little head appeared for an instant and she -sprang into the water.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page 128_ - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - JOHN O’NEILL - - - “A fiery soul, which, working out its way, - Fretted the pigmy body to decay.” - DRYDEN. - - - - “And we’re hanging out the sign - From the Leeuwin to the Line: - ‘This bit of the world belongs to US!’” - -THE words came floating down the hillside at the top of a cheery young -baritone. Also down the hillside came sounds of haste—heavy footsteps, -crashing undergrowth, and rustling of bracken. - -The hill sloped steeply, ending with an abrupt plunge into a boreen -below: a little winding lane, walled in by high banks, clad with heather -and furze, and all abloom with wild flowers. The main road ran westward, -dusty and hot in the June sunlight; but the boreen was all in shade, -twisting its way in and out between the hills. The dew was yet on its -grass, though in the blossoming furze above, fringing the banks, the -bees droned heavily, winging their busy way among the hot sweetness. - -The noise overhead came nearer, and there came into the song staccato -notes never intended by the composer, as the singer half-slid, -half-plunged, down the hillside, taking inequalities in the ground with -long strides. Nevertheless, the voice persevered, happy, if disjointed, -until it was just above the boreen. Then the song and the hurrying -footsteps ceased together, and there was a pause. - -“Wire!” said Wally’s disgusted tones. “And barbed, at that! Didn’t we -have enough in France!” - -The wire was half-hidden in the tangle of grass and furze; a tense -strand twanged as his boot caught it in clambering over. His thin face -showed for a moment, peeping over into the boreen. There was nothing to -do but slither, and slither he did, landing in the little lane with a -mighty thud, and bringing with him a shower of furze blossoms, and -clattering stones and clods. They fell close to a man sitting on a -fragment of rock and leaning back against the bank. He had not stirred -at the commotion overhead, and now he sat motionless, looking up at the -tall lad with a faint smile. - -“I beg your pardon!” said Wally, abashed. “I say. I hope nothing hit -you?” - -The man on the boulder shook his head. It was a big head, with a wide -brow and lines of pain round the eyes; but he was a small man, and the -hand lying on the knee of his rough tweed suit was startlingly thin. -Even as he leaned back against the bank it was easy to see that his -shoulders were misshapen and humped. Wally glanced once, and withdrew -his eyes hurriedly, with a boy’s instinctive dread of appearing to -notice anything amiss. - -“Beastly careless of me!” he said, apologetically. “I never thought of -anyone being down below.” - -“Well, you gave enough warning that you were coming,” said the man. -“Anyone remaining below did so entirely at his own risk. Do you always -come down a hill in that fashion, may I ask?” - -Wally grinned. - -“Not always,” he admitted. “But it was a jolly hill; and it had taken me -such a time to climb up it that I had a fancy to see how quickly I could -get down. And I was feeling awfully fit. It’s so jolly to be feeling -well—makes you act like a kid.” - -“It must be jolly,” said the other, laconically. - -Wally flushed hotly, in dread of having hurt him. It was painfully clear -that to feel well was not a common experience for the man on the -boulder. He had a sudden wild desire to undo the impression of exuberant -health and spirits. The tired eyes were even harder to face than the -twisted shoulders. - -“Been an awful crock, really,” he said, sitting down on another fragment -of rock. “Gassed—over there.” He nodded vaguely in the direction—more -or less—of Europe. “Makes you feel like nothing on earth.” - -“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” asked the other, with swift interest. - -“Rather. We didn’t get anything like a full dose, of course, or we -wouldn’t be here. But even a little is rather beastly. And the worst of -it is, that it hangs on to you long after you’re better—it seems to -lurk down somewhere inside you, and gets hold of you just as you’re -beginning to think you’re really all right. It actually makes a fellow -think he’s got nerves!” - -“You don’t look like it,” said the man, laughing for the first time. The -brown, boyish face did not suggest such attributes. - -“Well, it truly does make one pretty queer,” said Wally, laughing too. -“However, I believe we’ve nearly got rid of it—this country of yours is -enough to make us forget it.” - -“You’re Australian, aren’t you?” the man asked. - -Wally nodded. “How did you know?” - -“Oh, this is a little place,” said the other. “Strangers are our only -excitement, and since the war started we haven’t had nearly so many. All -the people who used to come here to fish are away fighting.” He sighed. -“Most of them will not come back any more. You were quite a godsend to -us. Your boatman told one of my men about you; and the baker’s boy tells -the cook; and the butcher tells every one; and the postmistress is -simply full of news about you. As for the shops, they are fairly -buzzing!” - -“Why, there are only two,” said Wally, laughing. - -“That’s why they buzz,” said the man. “I don’t go into shops, myself; -but I have been altogether unable to repress the delighted confidences -of my chauffeur. He tells me that you’re all very keen fishermen——” - -“And don’t know a thing about it!” said Wally. “Did he tell you that, -too?” - -“He said you were getting on,” said the other, guardedly, his eyes -twinkling. The chauffeur’s confidences had probably been ample. “But -your stories of Australia have them all fascinated, and if they -weren’t—most of them—grandfathers, they would probably emigrate in a -body. Thank goodness, though, we’ve not many slackers here: almost all -our young men are fighting. My chauffeur, poor lad, lost a leg at Ypres. -His wooden leg is fairly satisfactory, but of course he can’t go back, -much as he wants to. We’re nearly all old men or—cripples”—his voice -was suddenly bitter: “and it’s rather pleasant to see young faces again. -You bring the stir of the world with you.” - -“We’ve had so much stir that we were uncommonly glad to get away from -it,” Wally answered. “And this is a jolly place; if there were more big -timber it would be nearly as good as our bush-country.” He paused, -cheerfully certain of having paid Ireland the highest possible -compliment: then he rose. “I must be getting back.” - -The man on the boulder rose also, slowly. When he stood up, his crooked -shoulders became more evident. He took one or two steps slowly and -painfully. Then he staggered, stretching an uncertain hand towards the -bank. - -“Can I help you?” It was impossible to pretend any longer not to notice: -he was swaying, and Wally was beside him with a swift stride. The other -caught at the strong young arm. - -“Thank you,” he said, presently. There were drops of perspiration on his -brow, but his voice was steady. “I’m something of a crock myself, and -this happens to be one of my bad days. I came up here because I couldn’t -stand the car any more—it’s waiting for me on the road. If you would -not mind helping me——?” - -They went along the boreen slowly, between the blossoming banks. The man -rested heavily on Wally’s arm. - -“Sure I’m not tiring you?” he asked, once. “You’re not fit yourself, -yet.” - -“Oh, I’m all right,” Wally answered. “Please lean as much as you like. -Would you like a rest?” - -“No—we’re nearly there. And I’m better.” His face was white, but he -smiled up at the tall boy. Then a turn in the lane brought the high road -in view, and, drawn up by the side, a big touring-car. The chauffeur, -drowsing in his seat in the sun, became suddenly awake. He limped -quickly towards his master. - -“Sure I knew you had no right to be going up there alone,” he said, -reproachfully. “Will you give me the other arm, sir?” - -“I’m all right, Con. This gentleman has helped me splendidly.” But he -put a hand on the chauffeur’s sleeve, more, Wally fancied, to pacify him -than because he needed extra help. - -In the car, he leaned back with a sigh of relief. It was luxuriously -padded, and there were special cushions that the chauffeur adjusted with -a practised hand. - -“Awfully sorry to have been such a nuisance,” he said. “Thanks ever so -much; you saved me a rather nasty five minutes.” He looked wistfully at -Wally. “I suppose you wouldn’t come home with me?” - -Wally hesitated. He wanted badly to get back to his party and to the -trout that were so tantalizing and so engrossing. But there was -something hard to resist in the tired eyes. - -“You would be doing me a real kindness,” said the other. “I can send -word to your friends——” He broke off. “Oh, it’s hardly fair to ask -you—you didn’t come here to muddle about with a sick man. Never -mind—I’ll get you to come over some day when I’m more fit.” - -“I’d like to,” said Wally, cheerfully; “but I’m coming now, as well, if -I may.” He hopped into the car, and sat down. “If you could let them -know, I should be glad—they may be waiting for me.” - -“Where are they?—at the hotel?” - -“No, they’re fishing Lough Nacurra. I said I would turn up about twelve -and hail them; it’s Australian mail-day, and I’ve been posting the -family’s letters.” - -“If doesn’t seem fair to keep you,” said the car’s owner. “But these -days I dread my own company. So if you’ll come to lunch with me I’ll -send you back to them in good time to get a few trout before the -evening. Home, Con.” The car started gently, and he leaned back and -closed his eyes. - -Wally felt slightly bewildered. Here was he, in company with a man whose -name he did not know, and who was apparently going to sleep—both of -them being whisked through the peaceful Irish landscape at an -astonishing rate of speed in a motor which surpassed anything he had -ever imagined in luxury of fittings. It was a very large car: four -people could easily have found room in the seat he shared with his -silent host, and there were, in addition, three little arm-chairs which -folded flat when not in use. It was splendidly upholstered, and there -were electric lamps in cunning places, and many of what Wally termed -“contraptions”; pockets and flaps for holding papers, a clock and -speedometer, and a silver vase in which nodded two perfect roses. Wally -infinitely preferred horses to motors: but this was indeed a motor to be -respected, and he gazed about him with frank interest, which did not -abate when he found that his host was looking at him. - -“I was admiring your car,” he said. “It’s a beauty; I don’t think I ever -saw such a big one.” - -“Well, I use it as a bedroom very often,” said the other. “I like -knocking about in it; and I hate hotels; so Con and I live in the car -when we go touring, and he cooks for me, camp-fashion. This seat makes a -very good bed; and I have various travelling fixtures that screw on here -and there when they are needed, or live under the seat. I planned it -myself, and I don’t think there’s a foot of waste space in it. Con -sleeps in the front seat. We have an electric cooker, and he turns out -uncommonly good meals. Of course, if we encounter really bad weather we -have to put in for shelter, but I’m glad to say that doesn’t often -happen to us.” - -“How jolly!” Wally exclaimed. “I suppose you’ve been all over Ireland in -that way?” - -“Ireland—Scotland—England: and most of Europe and America,” said his -host. “I’m an idle man, you see, and travelling, if I can do it in my -own fashion, makes amends for a good many things I can’t have.” The -weariness came back into his face. “I might as well introduce myself,” -he said; “I forgot that I had kidnapped you without the civility of -telling you my name, which is O’Neill—John O’Neill. I live at -Rathcullen House, where we shall be in another minute or two.” - -Memory came back to Wally of a road perched above the lough, and of a -little runabout car driven by a man in motor-goggles: and of the -boatman’s confidences. - -“Then you’re Sir John O’Neill?” he asked. - -“Yes—the first part of it doesn’t matter. The line goes back a good -way, but I’m the last of it. But the old house is rather jolly; I hope -you will all come and see it as often as you can spare the time.” - -The car swung off the road as he spoke, and through a great gateway -where beautiful gates of wrought iron stood open between massive stone -pillars. A little gabled lodge, with windows of diamond lattice-work, -was just within: a pleasant-faced woman in pursuit of a fleeing -mischievous child stopped, smiled, and dropped a curtsey, while the -three-year-old atom she had been chasing bobbed down in ridiculous -imitation, her elfish face breaking into smiles in its tangle of dark -curls. John O’Neill smiled in return; and the car sped on smoothly, up a -wide avenue lined with enormous beech-trees, arching and meeting -overhead so that they seemed to be driving into a tunnel of perfect -green. Between their mighty trunks Wally caught glimpses of a wide park, -where little black Kerry cattle grazed. - -For over a mile the avenue ran its winding way through the park. Then -the trees ceased, and they came out into a clear space of terraced lawn, -blazing with flower-beds, and sloping down to a lake fringed with -ornamental plants, and dotted with many-coloured water-lilies, among -which paddled lazily some curious waterfowl which Wally had never seen. -Beyond the lawn stood a long grey house; a house of old grey stone, of -many gables, clad in ivy and Virginia creeper. Even to the Australian -boy’s eyes it was mellow with the dignity of centuries. It was not -imposing or majestic, like the old houses he had seen in England; but -about it hovered an atmosphere of high breeding and of quiet peace: a -house of memories, tranquil in its beauty and in its dreams. - -The car came to rest gently beside a stone step, and in an instant a -white-haired old butler was at the door, offering his arm to his master. -John O’Neill got out slowly, and limped up the steps to the great -doorway, where an Irish wolf-hound stood, looking at him with liquid -eyes of welcome. - -“I say—what a jolly dog!” Wally uttered. - -“Yes, he’s rather a nice old chap,” said his host. “Shake hands, -Lomair”; and the big dog put a paw gravely into Wally’s hand. He -followed his master into the house. - -The great square hall was panelled with old oak, almost black in the -subdued light within. A staircase, with wide, shallow steps, wound its -way in a long curve to a gallery overhead: and at the far end, an -enormous fireplace was filled with evergreens. Eastern rugs lay on the -polished oaken floor; in one corner a stand of flowering plants made a -sheet of colour. On the walls were splendid heads—deer of many kinds, -markhor, ibex, koodoo, and two heads with enormous spreading antlers, -stretching, from tip to tip, fully eleven feet. They drew an exclamation -from Wally. - -“They belonged to the old Irish elk,” O’Neill explained. “He must have -been a pretty big fellow; a pity civilization proved too much for him. -He has been extinct thousands of years.” - -“Fancy seeing a herd of those fellows!” Wally exclaimed, gazing in -admiration at the noble head. “But however would he get those antlers -through timber?” - -“I don’t think he frequented forests much,” O’Neill said. “The plains -suited him better. But he must have been able to lay his horns right -back—all deer can do that when necessary. I dare say he could dodge -through trees at a good rate.” - -“Well, he looks as if he could hardly have got through the doorway of a -Town Hall,” Wally commented. “You have a splendid lot of heads. Did you -shoot them yourself?” - -“A few—I can’t do much stalking,” O’Neill said. “I got those two -tigers, but that was from the back of an elephant. My father shot most -of the others; he was a mighty hunter. The trout were mine”—he -indicated some huge stuffed specimens, in glass cases, on the wall. - -“They’re splendid,” Wally said, regarding his host with much admiration. -“And you actually shot the tigers! Was it very exciting?” - -“No—the trout took far more killing. The elephants and the beaters did -most of the work so far as the tigers were concerned; it was only a sort -of arm-chair performance on my part. I simply sat in a fairly -comfortable howdah and fired when I was told to do so.” - -“It sounds simple, but—well, I’d like to have the chance. And you must -have shot straight,” Wally said. He glanced from the grim masks to the -slight figure with ungainly shoulders, marvelling in his heart at the -contrast between hunter and hunted. At the moment John O’Neill did not -look capable of killing a mouse. - -He dropped in to a big arm-chair, motioning Wally to another. The colour -was returning to his face, and his eyes began to lose their pain-filled -expression. In the big chair’s depths he looked smaller than ever; but -his eyes were very bright, and soon Wally forgot his morning’s fishing -and altogether lost sight of his host’s infirmities in the fascination -of his talk. Half-crippled as he was, he had been everywhere, and done -many things that stronger men long vainly to do. He had travelled -widely, and not as the average tourist, who skims over many experiences -without gathering the cream of any. John O’Neill had gone off the beaten -track in search of the unusual, and he had found it in a dozen different -countries. He had hunted and fished; had shot big game in India and made -his way up unknown rivers in South America, until sickness had forced -him to abandon enterprise and return to civilization to save his life. -Wandering in the bypaths of the world, he had brought home a harvest of -queer experiences; he told them simply, with a twinkle in his eye and a -quick joy in the humorous that often left his hearer shaking with -laughter. - -Wally listened in growing wonderment and a great sense of pity. If this -man, so cruelly handicapped, had already done so much, what might he not -have done, given a straight and sound body! Yet how he had accomplished -even the tenth part of what he had done was a mystery. Wally looked at -the frail, slight figure with respectful amazement. - -John O’Neill broke off presently. - -“I rattle along at a terrible rate when I’m lucky enough to find a -listener,” he said. “And lately I’ve been horribly sick of my own -society. You see, they wouldn’t have me in any capacity at the Front; I -offered to do anything, and I did think they might have let me drive an -ambulance; but an ambulance driver over there really has to be a hefty -chap, able to put his shoulder literally to the wheel when a road goes -to pieces in front of him, owing to a shell lobbing on it; and of course -they said I wouldn’t do, so soon as they looked at me. So I went to -London and did Red Cross work and recruiting—and overdid it, like a -silly ass. Broke down, and had to crawl home and be ill.” - -“Hard luck!” said Wally, sympathetically. - -“Stupidity, you mean,” remarked his host. “A man ought to know when he -has had enough, whether it’s work or beer. But it’s not easy to stand -aside when all the lucky people—like you—are playing the real game. At -best, mine was only an imitation.” - -“I don’t agree with you,” Wally said, warmly. “We can’t all fight—the -rest of the country has to carry on.” - -“Oh, well, there are enough slackers and shirkers to do that,” O’Neill -said. “And anyhow, I couldn’t even carry on at what I did attempt to do. -Never mind—tell me your own adventures.” - -Wally’s story of war did not take long in the telling; but he spun it -out as much as possible, switching from war to Australia in response to -the eager questions of the man in the big leather chair. John O’Neill -was a curious blending: at one moment almost savagely cynical and -despondent, as his own physical handicap weighed upon him: at the next, -laughing like a boy, and full of a boy’s keen interest in what he had -not seen. Australian talk held him closely attentive: it was almost the -only corner of the world that he had not visited, but he meant to go -there, he said, after the war. Travelling by sea was unpleasant enough -at any time without the added chance of an impromptu ducking if a -submarine or a mine came across you. - -“Do they all buck—your horses?” he asked. “I can ride a bit, but a -buckjumper would be beyond me.” - -Wally reassured him as to the manners of Australian steeds. - -“There’s a general impression in England that we all live in red shirts, -in the bush, and ride fiery, untamed steeds,” said he, laughing. “It -goes with the universal belief that all Australia is tropical. I’ve -tried to tell fellows in England that there are parts of Australia where -we have a pretty decent imitation of Swiss winter sports—skiing, -skating, and all the rest of it; but they look on me with polite -disbelief. They can’t—or won’t—understand that Australia stretches -over enough of the map to have a dozen different kinds of climate. Not -that it matters, anyhow; I don’t think we expect people to be wildly -interested in us.” - -“We’ll know more about you by the time the war is over,” his host -suggested. - -“Well—I suppose so. Lots of our fellows will come to London; we’re all -awfully keen to see it, and it’s a great chance for us. I only hope we -shall take a lot of your men back with us; they’re falling over each -other in England—or will be, once the war is over: and we want them. We -needed them badly enough before the war: afterwards it will be worse -than ever.” - -“Don’t you preach emigration in Ireland,” said O’Neill, laughing. - -“Why not? They emigrate, whether you preach or not; only they go to -America and Canada, because they’re near and there’s nothing between -them and Ireland. They would probably do much better if they would come -to Australia, only they don’t know a thing about it. I told one old -woman a few things about Australia and wages there, and all she could -say was, ‘God help us!’ When I’d finished, she said. ‘And Australy’d be -somewhere in Americy, wouldn’t it, dear?’” - -“Did you say, ‘God help us’?” laughed O’Neill. - -“I might have,” grinned Wally. “They know Canada—but then, look what -Canada is!” He gave a mock shiver—Wally had been reared in hot -Queensland. “As one Canadian chap said to me, after visiting our -irrigation settlements—‘I don’t know why people come to us instead of -to you: just look at the climate you’ve got—and we have three seasons -in the year—July, August, and winter!’ But I suppose they seem nearer -home, and they can’t realize that when you once get on a ship you might -as well be there for a month as a week.” - -The white-haired butler announced luncheon, and they found the table -laid in the bow-window of a long and lofty room, whence could be seen -the park, ending in a glimpse of bog and heather, with a flash of blue -that meant a little lough caught among the hills. Afterwards, they -strolled out on the terrace and through the scented garden to the -stables, where two fine hunters and some useful ponies made friends with -Wally instantly. - -“The Government took most of my horses when war broke out; but I managed -to keep these two,” said O’Neill, his hand on an arching neck while a -soft muzzle sought in his pocket for a carrot. “I’d sooner have paid -what they were worth than let them go; they’re too good for war -treatment, unless it were absolutely necessary. And thank goodness this -is not a war of horses. Would you care to try one of these fellows, some -day?” - -“Wouldn’t I!” said Wally, beaming. “And—could Jim?” - -“Of course—and what about Jim’s sister? Does she ride?” - -“She does,” said Wally, suppressing a smile at that incomplete -statement. - -“Rides anything that ever looked through a bridle, I suppose,” said his -host, watching him. “She looks a workmanlike person. That brown pony is -pretty good; she might like him. I can show you all a bit of Irish -jumping—ditches and banks instead of your fly fences.” - -“We’ll probably fall off,” said Wally, with conviction. - -“Then you’ll find the falling softer than in Australia,” O’Neill said, -consolingly. “But I don’t fancy you will give us much fun that way.” - -The motor waited at the hall door. - -“Con will drop you near your people,” O’Neill said. “I’d like to come -with you—but if I overdo things to-day I’ll pay to-morrow; and I’m -anxious to see the last of this attack. Will you tell Mr. Linton I hope -to call on him in a few days?” - -“We’ll be awfully glad to see you,” Wally said. “And thanks ever so for -giving me such a good time.” - -O’Neill laughed. “Is it me now, to be giving you a good time?” he said. -“I thought ’twas the other way round it was. You have helped me through -a stiff day, and I’m very grateful.” He shook hands warmly, and the -motor whirred away. - -[Illustration: He fell close to a man sitting on a fragment of rock and -leaning back against the bank.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page 132_ - - - - - CHAPTER IX - PINS AND PORK - - - “Sure, this is blessed Erin, an’ this the same glen; - The gold is on the whin-bush, the wather sings again: - The Fairy Thorn’s in flower—an’ what ails my heart then?” - MOIRA O’NEIL. - -‟WELL—of all the deserters!” - -“Is it me?” asked Wally, modestly. He made an enormous stride from a -half-submerged stone into the boat, and nearly lost his balance, -collapsing in the stern. - -“You!” said Jim, steadying the boat, which endeavoured, under the -assault, to bury her nose in a muddy bank of rushes. “You, that was -going to catch several hundred trout, and instead cleared out——” - -“In a plutocratic motor,” said Norah. - -“With a bloated aristocrat,” added Jim. - -“And never said good-bye!” finished Mr. Linton, with an artistic catch -in his voice. - -“I did,” said Wally: “I did it all. And I didn’t want to.” - -Sounds of disbelief rose from his hearers. - -“You needn’t snort,” said the victim, inelegantly. - -“I don’t think it betters your case to describe our just indignation as -snorting,” said Mr. Linton. - -“If you were to grovel it would become you better,” said Norah. - -“Not in this boat,” hastily remarked her father. “It isn’t planned for -gymnastics.” - -“He’s too well-fed to grovel, anyhow,” said Jim brutally. “What did you -have in the ducal castle, Wal? ortolans and plovers’ eggs, and things?” - -“Chops,” said Wally. - -“Shades of Australia!” ejaculated Mr. Linton. “Is that what one eats in -company with dukes?” - -“I don’t know,” Wally answered, patiently. “He isn’t a duke, anyhow. -Where did you people get your soaring ideas?” - -“From a lame chauffeur who seemed to think you were getting a great deal -more than you deserved——” Jim began. - -“That’s what I’m getting now!” said Wally. - -“Well, he said you had gone off in the mothor to the big house. We -inferred from his tone that it was not merely big, but enormous. The -master had tuk you, he said; we further gathered that you might come -back when the master had finished with you. It sounded rather like Jack -and the Giant, and if we had known who had kidnapped you we might have -organized a search party. As we didn’t, we caught trout—lots of ’em.” - -“Did you, indeed?” said Wally, with open envy. “Lucky beggars—I wish I -had!” - -“And you rioting in baronial halls!” said Norah. “Some people don’t know -when they are well off.” - -“If we let Wally have a word in edgeways for a few minutes we might find -out a little more about the baronial halls,” said Mr. Linton. “Tell us -what happened to you, Wally. Was it a duke?” - -“It was not—only a poor hump backed chap with some sort of a handle to -his name. He’s Sir John O’Neill, and he has a lovely place; but you -never saw a man with less ‘frill,’” Wally remarked. “Simple as anyone -could be. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so sorry for anyone.” - -“Is he badly crippled?” Jim asked. - -“No—only he seems awfully delicate, and subject to beastly fits of -illness. He’s got any amount of pluck—rides and shoots and fishes, and -has motored half over the world. But of course he’s terribly -handicapped; the wonder is that he has done half as much.” - -“That must be the man Patsy was talking about—only he called him the -young masther,” Norah said. “Is he quite young?” - -“Oh, I’d put him down at about forty,” said Wally, to whom that age was -close on senile decay: “I think the old hands here would call a man the -young master until he died of old age. He’s queer: at times he’s like a -kid; and then I suppose the pain gets hold of him, because, in a minute -he seems to grow quite old, and he drops laughing and gets bitter.” - -“Poor fellow!” said Mr. Linton. “How did you find him, Wally?” - -“Why, I nearly fell on top of him getting down a bank into a lane,” -Wally answered. “He was sitting on a stone, hating himself, but he -didn’t seem to mind my sudden appearance at all, though I’m sure clods -hit him. Then we yarned, and I helped him back to his car, and he got me -to go back to lunch with him—I didn’t want to, but——” He was silent. - -“I expect he was glad of someone to talk to,” Mr. Linton said. - -“That’s it—he’s just as lonely as he can be. All his people are -fighting, and he’s knocked himself out over Red Cross work, and has had -to come back to Ireland and get fit. He’s coming to call on you, -sir—and he wants us all to go over to Rathcullen—his place—as much as -we can.” - -“H’m,” said Jim and Norah, together. - -“I wish baronial halls appealed more to my family,” said Mr. Linton, -laughing. - -“I didn’t mean to be horrid; but trout and loughs and bogs appeal so -much more,” said Norah. “Of course we’ll go, if he wants us.” - -“Well, it’s a jolly place, and he’s horribly lonely,” Wally answered. -“And I don’t know about his halls being baronial, but certainly his -stables are: they’re simply topping. He hasn’t many horses left—the -Government took most of them for the war; but there are two ripping -hunters, and some extra good ponies. And he wants to lend ’em to us.” - -“Eh!” said Jim, sitting up. “Wally, my child, how did you manage it?” - -“Didn’t have to,” said Wally, grinning. “He simply threw them at me. -Asked me if you could ride, Norah, so I suggested that if he had a quiet -donkey it might do.” - -“We have one that is not quiet,” said Norah, regarding him with a fixed -eye. “Tell me the truth, Wally—is there something I can ride?” - -“Wait till you see it—that’s all. And he’s going to teach us to jump -banks and ditches and things.” - -“Oh-h!” said Norah, blissfully, “I said this place only wanted horses to -make it perfect!” - -“Well, now you’re going to have the horses, little as you both deserve -’em,” said Wally; “and now, perhaps, you’ll all apologize humbly for -calling me unpleasant names!” - -“Certainly not,” Jim said, firmly. “If you didn’t deserve them at the -moment (and I’m not sure that you didn’t), you’re sure to deserve them -before long. Never mind, look at this!” - -He opened his fishing-basket carefully and showed a mass of damp grass, -among which could be seen glimpses of many trout. Jim dived in with his -finger and thumb, and drew out a speckled beauty, which he dangled -before Wally’s envious gaze. - -“A pound and a half, by my patent spring-balance!” he declared, -triumphantly. “I played him for what seemed like three hours, and I -never was so scared of anything in my life. He got tired at last, -however, and Norah officiated with the landing-net.” - -“Yes, and missed him twice,” said Norah, shame-faced. “It was the -greatest wonder he didn’t get off. But a big trout on the end of a -little line does wobble so much when it’s coming towards the net. It’s -much worse than a screwing ball at tennis.” - -“I know—and you feel perfectly certain the line is going to break, if -the rod doesn’t,” Wally said. “I feel like that over a quarter-pounder: -I don’t know how you ever managed to make a collected effort for that -big fellow.” - -“It wasn’t collected at all—I just swiped wildly, and got him by the -sheerest good luck,” Norah answered. “I mean to practise with a cricket -ball on a string, hung from the big tree outside my window: it would be -awful to miss another beauty like that.” - -They were drifting down the little lough very slowly. There were purple -shadows under the hills, lying across the strip of bog that stretched -westward, where the curlew and golden plover were calling. A little -breeze sprang up, just rippling the surface of the water. Wally got out -his rod hastily; but though the conditions seemed ideal, the trout had -apparently gone to sleep, and when an hour’s casting had not yielded so -much as a rise, it was decided that there might be better things than -fishing, and the party returned to the shore. A small boy, lurking about -the landing stage, was entrusted with the rods and baskets, and -disappeared slowly among the trees fringing the path that led to the -hotel. - -“What are we going to do?” Jim asked. - -“I’m going to Gortbeg,” Norah said. “I want some pins.” - -“Pins?” Jim echoed. “Why ever must you walk two miles for pins? I’m sure -you don’t use one in a year.” - -“No, and so I haven’t got any,” Norah said. “And I must have some, -because I want to shorten my bog-lepping skirt, and I can’t turn up the -edge without pins to keep it in place.” - -“But you sew that sort of thing, don’t you?” Jim asked, wrestling with -masculine obtuseness. - -“Of course—after you’ve pinned it in place. Jimmy, you had better let -me attack that skirt in my own way!” said Norah, justly incensed. “If -you’d tried climbing a mountain in a too-long skirt you wouldn’t argue -about making it shorter.” - -“I guess I would cut a foot off it without arguing at all,” said Jim, -laughing. “Skirts are fool-things out of a house. Well, lead on, my -child: I suppose we’re all going pin-hunting.” - -The road to Gortbeg lay between high banks, with occasional gaps through -which could be seen pleasant moors and fields, and sometimes an old -mansion, almost hidden by enormous beech-trees. Most of the great houses -of the country were silent and closely-shuttered; the men of the family -away fighting, the women doing Red Cross work in London, or nursing as -near the firing-line as they could manage to establish themselves. In a -few were faint signs of occupation: a white-haired old lady on a lawn, -an old man, surrounded by a number of dogs, of many breeds, wandering -through the woods; but even in these houses there was an air of brooding -quiet and expectancy, of silent daily watching for news. The gardens -were gay with summer flowers, and nothing could spoil the beauty of the -trees; but there were weeds in the mould, and the paths were unkempt and -moss-grown. The district was never a rich one, and now the war had taken -all its men and money. - -Down the road, to meet them, came a boy on a donkey: a cheery small boy, -sitting very far back with his knees well in. The donkey was guiltless -of bridle or saddle, obeying, with meekness, if not with alacrity, -suggestions conveyed to it by the pressure of the bare knees and -occasional blows with an ash cudgel. - -“The asses of Ireland are a patient race,” remarked Wally. - -“They had need to be,” Jim answered. - -“It’s up to the ass to be patient in most places,” remarked Mr. Linton. -“Life isn’t exactly a picnic to him anywhere. On the whole, the Irish -donkeys seem well enough cared for; I have seen their brothers in other -countries far worse treated. That’s a nice donkey you have, sonny”—to -the small rider, who passed them, grinning cheerfully. - -“He is, sorr”; and the grin widened. - -“They’re such jolly kids in these parts,” Wally said. “They always greet -you as if you were the one person they had wanted to see for years; and -they’re so interested in you. It doesn’t seem like curiosity, either, -but real, genuine interest.” - -“So it is, as far as it goes,” Jim said. - -“Well it may not go far, but it’s comforting while it lasts—and it -generally lasts as long as one is there oneself. It’s just as well it -doesn’t go deeper, or visitors would leave an awful trail of unrequited -affection behind them. As it is, one feels they recover after one has -gone, after doing all they can to make one’s stay pleasant. Yes, I think -Ireland’s a nice, friendly country,” Wally finished. “And there’s -Gortbeg, looking as if it had forgotten to wake up for about five -hundred years.” - -There was not much of Gortbeg. A busy little river flowed past it -hurriedly, and the village had sprung up along one bank: one winding -street, with a few cottages and a whitewashed inn which called itself -the Fisherman’s Arms. Some boats were moored in the stream near the inn, -where a crazy landing-stage jutted out. Scarcely anyone was to be seen -except a few children, playing on the green, which they shared with -numerous geese, a few donkeys, and some long-haired goats; while over -the half-door of one of the cabins a knot of shawled women gossiped. - -“There’s your shop, Norah,” Mr. Linton said, indicating a dingy building -which bore in its window a curious assortment of cheap sweets, slates, -apples, red flannel, and bacon. - -“It looks a bit queer,” Norah commented, regarding the emporium rather -doubtfully. “However, it’s sure to have pins.” - -The shop was prudently secured, by a bolted half-door, against the -ravages of predatory geese or goats. Within, it was very dark, and -prolonged hammering on the counter failed to bring any response. Finally -Jim found his way into a back room and cooee’d lustily, returning in -some haste. - -“Phew-w! There’s a gentleman in corduroys, asleep on a bed, and two dead -pigs hanging by their heels,” he said. “None of them took any notice of -me; but some one out at the back answered. Here he comes.” - -The proprietor of the shop entered hurriedly: a plump little man, very -breathless and apologetic, and more than a little damp. - -“I left a bit of a young gossoon to mind the shop,” he said—“and I -washin’ meself. It’s gone he is, playin’ with the other boys—sure I’ll -teach him to play when I get a holt of him. Pins, miss? Is it hairpins, -now, you’d be wanting?” - -“No, just ordinary pins,” Norah told him. - -“H’m,” said the shopman, doubtfully. “I dunno would I have them, at all. -If it was hairpins, now, there’s not a place in Donegal where you’d get -a finer selection. Pins . . .” He pondered deeply, and rummaged in a box -that seemed sacred to extremely sticky bull’s eyes. “Well, well, we’d -better look for them. It might be they’d be in some odd corner.” - -The wall behind him was divided into innumerable little compartments, -and he looked faithfully through them all, striking match after match to -illumine his progress. There were assorted goods in the compartments: -nails and screws, tin saucepan-lids, marbles, boots, soap, oranges, -reels of cotton, biscuits, socks, and ass’s shoes; he searched them all, -turning over the contents of each until the match burned down to his -fingers, when he would throw it hastily on the floor, strike another, -and move on to the next collection. The box of matches was nearly -exhausted when at length he gave up his quest. - -“They’re not in it at all,” he said, despondently. “I did have some, one -time, but I expect they’re sold on me. When the traveller comes I could -be getting some in from Belfast, if there was no hurry.” - -Norah indicated that there was hurry, and asked if there were another -shop. - -“There’s Mary Doody’s,” said the man of business, sadly; “at the least, -you might call it a shop, though it’s only herself knows what she sells. -That’s the only one.” He came to the doorway, and pointed down the -street. “The last house, it is. If ’twas anything in the wurruld now, -except pins, I’d have it.” - -A little way from the shop, he caught them up, breathless, but aflame -with business enterprise. - -“Is it from Moroney’s ye are? Would ye tell Mrs. Moroney that I’ve the -grandest bit of pork ever she seen—killed yesterday, an’ they me own -pigs that I rared on the place. Peter Grogan—sure, she’ll know me.” - -“Thank you,” Jim said, hurriedly. “Good night.” - -“Good night,” responded Mr. Grogan. “Tell her to-morrow’s early closing -day, an’ I could bring one over in the little ass-cart as aisy as not.” -The last words were uttered in a high shriek as the distance widened -between himself and the Linton party. - -“Pork is a good thing,” said Mr. Linton, sententiously. “Isn’t it, Jim?” - -“If you’d seen the room I saw!” said his son, with feeling. “Such a -bedroom: and the gentleman in bed, and I should say very drunk. No, I -don’t think I’ll deliver that message.” - -“I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Linton. - -Mary Doody’s place of business stood back a little from the road. There -was no window for the display of goods, and the door was shut. The -uninitiated might, indeed, have been pardoned for failing to regard it -as a shop, or for passing by, unnoticed, the brief legend over the door -which stated that Mrs. Doody’s residence was a Generil Store, and added -that she was further empowered to sell stout and porter. The inhabitants -of Gortbeg, however, were clearly to be numbered among the initiated, -for sounds of conviviality came, muffled, from within, and once a voice -broke into a snatch of a song. Norah hesitated. - -“I suppose I needn’t knock.” - -“They might not hear you, if you did,” Jim said. He opened the door. - -Within, a long, low room was dim with a mixture of turf and tobacco -smoke, and heavy with the fumes of porter. A swinging lamp shed a -depressed ray over the scene. As her eyes grew accustomed to the smoky -twilight, Norah made out a number of men and a few women sitting on -benches near the fire, each with a mug that evidently held comforting -liquor. Every one seemed to be talking at once; but a dead silence fell -as the door opened on the unfamiliar figures. Norah resisted an -inclination to turn and seek fresh air. An immensely fat woman, with a -grimy shawl pinned across her bosom, waddled forward. - -“Good evening, dear,” she said, dividing the greeting impartially -between Jim and Norah. - -“Good evening,” Norah responded. “This is a shop, isn’t it?” - -“It is, dear,” Mrs. Doody said, bridling a little at any doubt being -cast on her emporium. “Were you wantin’——?” - -“Pins,” Norah said hastily. “Do you keep them?” - -“I dunno would I,” said Mary Doody, unconsciously echoing Mr. Grogan. -“Pins. Would they be small pins, now?” - -“Yes—just common pins.” - -“Pins,” said Mary Doody, reflecting deeply. She turned and sought in -unsavoury boxes which held a stock as varied, if not so numerous, as -that of Mr. Grogan. The porter-drinkers became immensely interested. -Some of the women came nearer and stared at the strangers, and one or -two, catching Norah’s eye, smiled a greeting. - -Mary Doody heaved her mighty form up from the box over which she had -been crouching. - -“I had some, wanst,” she said. “But ’tis gone they are, or may be them -gerrls has them taken. Wouldn’t anything else do for you, dear?” - -“No, thank you,” Norah said, hastily. She turned to go, pursued by Mrs. -Doody, who suddenly became interested in the case. - -“Did you try Peter Grogan?” she asked. “He have a little shop up -yonder.” - -Norah admitted having tried and failed. - -“My, my!” said Mary Doody. “’Tis puttin’ a bad direction on a counthry -when you can’t buy a paper of pins in it, isn’t it, dear?” - -Norah laughed. “I’m sorry you haven’t got them,” she said. - -“No. There’s no call for them here, dear. We do be using buttons,” said -Mary Doody, blandly. - -Under cover of this broadside Norah made a confused exit, to find Jim -and Wally helpless with laughter without. - -“Never did I see anyone taught her place so beautifully!” said Jim, -ecstatically. “That will teach you to be tidy, young Norah!” - -“Buttons!” said Norah, laughing. “I’d like to see Mary Doody shorten a -skirt with the aid of buttons. Anyhow, I’ve got to do it without the aid -of pins, that’s evident. Come home, you unsympathetic frivollers!” - -It was two days later, that, coming in late and ravenously hungry after -a long tramp across the bog, the Lintons made a hurried toilet and a -still more hurried descent to the dining-room. Dinner had been kept -waiting for them, and they applied themselves to it with an energy born -of a long day in the open air and a sandwich lunch. It was when the -first edge of appetite had been taken off, and they were toying with a -mammoth apple-pie, that Mrs. Moroney bore down upon them. - -“I’m afraid we were very late, Mrs. Moroney,” said Mr. Linton. - -“Ah, ’tis no matter,” said the lady of the house, waving away the -suggestion. “In the heighth of the season there’s many a one roaring for -dinner, and it ten o’clock at night. Did you enjoy your dinner, now?” - -“We did, indeed,” said Mr. Linton; “it was most excellent pork——” - -He stopped, catching Jim’s eye, into which had come a sudden light of -comprehension. - -“Pork!” said Jim faintly. “Yes, it _was_ pork. Mrs. Moroney, . . . I -wonder . . . did you . . . ?” - -“Don’t tell me there was anything wrong with it,” said Mrs. Moroney, -aflame in the defence of the pork. “I never see better pigs than them -ones of Peter Grogan’s; and he after killing them only last Tuesday!” - - - - - CHAPTER X - THE ROCK OF DOON - - - “Hills o’ my heart! - Let the herdsman who walks in your high haunted places - Give him strength and courage, and weave his dreams alway: - Let your cairn-heaped hero-dead reveal their grand exultant faces. - And the Gentle Folk be good to him betwixt the dark and day.” - ETHNA CARBERY. - -SIR John O’Neill paid his formal call on the Australians, tactfully -choosing a day so hopelessly wet as to forbid any thought of fishing or -“bog-lepping.” Bog excursions had a peculiar fascination for Norah and -the boys, who loved rambling among the deep brown pools, leaping from -tuft to tuft of sound grass, and making experiments—frequently -disastrous—in mossy surfaces that looked sound, but were very likely to -prove quagmires which effectually removed any lurking doubt in Norah’s -mind that an Irish bog could be boggy. They sought the bogs in almost -all weathers. But the day that brought Sir John to the old house on -Lough Aniller was one of such pitiless rain that prudence, in the shape -of Mr. Linton, forbade any excursion to patients so newly recovered as -Jim and Wally. - -Even in the most homelike of boarding-houses a wet day is apt to be -depressing to open-air people. It was with relief, mingled with -amazement, that they saw the motor coming up the dripping avenue in the -afternoon; and a moment later Bridget, obviously impressed, ushered Sir -John into the drawing-room. The Lintons were established as favourites -in the household on their own merits; but it was placing them on quite a -different standard of respect to find that they were visited by the -“ould stock.” - -Every one enjoyed the visit. Sir John was better, the lines of pain that -Wally had seen nearly gone from his face. There was an almost boyish -eagerness about him; he was keen to know them all, to hear their frank -talk, to make friends with them. David Linton and his son liked him from -the moment they met his eyes; brown eyes, with something of the mute -appeal that lies in the eyes of a dog. As for Norah, in all her life she -had not known what it meant to be so sorry for anyone as she felt for -this brave, crippled man, with his high-bred face and gallant bearing. -Afterwards, when John O’Neill looked back at heir meeting, one of his -memories of Norah was that she had never seemed to see his misshapen -shoulders. - -That first visit had stretched over the whole afternoon, no one quite -knew how. Outside, the rain streamed down the window-panes and lashed -the lough into waves; but within the old house a fire of turf and -bog-wood blazed, casting ruddy lights on the furniture, and sending its -pleasant, acrid smell into the room. They gathered round it in a -half-circle and “yarned”—exchanging stories of Ireland, and Australia, -and London and war. There could be no talk in those grim days without -war-stories and war-rumours; but after a time they drifted away to -far-off times, and Sir John, beginning half-timidly with an old Irish -legend, found that he had a suddenly enthralled circle of listeners, who -demanded more, and yet more—tales of high and far-off times and of the -mighty heroes of Ireland: Finn MacCool and the Fianna, Cuchulain, Angus -Og, and the half-real, half-legendary past that holds Ireland in a mist -of romance. He knew it all, and loved it, telling the stories with the -quiet pride of a descendant of a race whose roots were deep in the soil -of the land that had borne them: and the children of the country that -had no history hung upon his words. - -“What must you think of me?” he said at last, when, in a pause, the -clock in the hall boomed out six strokes. “I come to call, and I remain -to an unseemly hour spinning yarns. The fact is, you—well, you just -aren’t strangers at all, and I certainly knew you before. Were you in -Ireland in a previous incarnation, Miss Norah?” - -Norah laughed. - -“I would love to think so,” she said. “One would like to have had some -part in the Ireland you can talk about. Will you come again and tell us -more, Sir John?” - -His eyes were grateful. - -“If I don’t bore you. I fastened upon this poor boy”—indicating Wally -with a friendly nod—“the other day when I was desperately sick of my -own company, and now I seem to have done the same to you all; and you’re -very good to a lonely man. But I want all of you at Rathcullen.” - -“We’re coming,” said Wally, solemnly. - -“Will you? I timed my call to-day, because I didn’t think even -half-amphibious Australians would be out in such weather—and see what -luck I’ve had!” He looked no older than the boys, his eager face glowing -in the firelight. “But please don’t come to Rathcullen formally, Mr. -Linton; if I bring the car over can I carry you all off to-morrow for -lunch? There are horses simply spoiling to be ridden, Miss Norah.” - -“Oh-h!” said Norah. “But I’ve no riding-things with me.” - -“That doesn’t matter: I have two young cousins who occasionally pay me a -visit, and their riding-kit is at Rathcullen, since they can’t use it in -London. I’m sure you can manage with it; details of fit don’t signify -much in Donegal.” He rose, and stood on the hearthrug looking eagerly at -them. When he was sitting, his finely-modelled head and clever face made -it easy to forget his dwarfed body: standing, among the lithe, tall -Australians, it was suddenly pitifully evident. He felt it, for he -flushed, and for a moment his eyes dropped; then he faced them again, -bravely. Mr. Linton spoke, hurriedly. - -“We would be delighted to go to you. But are we not rather a numerous -party? I think we ought to send a detachment!” - -“No, indeed—I wouldn’t know which to choose!” returned the Irishman, -whimsically. “You see, you are just a godsend to me, if you will spare -me a little of your time; I have been so long shut up alone. And it’s -not good to be alone when one is spoiling to be in the thick of things; -I grow horribly bad-tempered. When I know that these young giants are -out of the hunt, too, I become more reconciled to circumstances. You see -my complete selfishness!” He smiled at them delightfully. “So, may I -come for you all to-morrow?” - -“Thanks—but there is really no reason why we should trouble you to -bring the motor. We can easily walk over.” - -“There’s every reason; I’ll get you earlier!” said O’Neill, laughing. - -The motor slid down the avenue in the driving rain, and the Australians -looked at each other. - -“Did you ever make friends so quickly with anyone, dad?” Jim asked. - -“I don’t think I did,” David Linton answered. “There’s something about -him one can’t quite express: so much of the child left in the man. Poor -fellow—poor fellow!” - -“I think he’s the bravest man I ever saw,” said Norah. - -The day at Rathcullen House was the first of many. Sir John was so -frankly eager to have them there, and his welcome was so spontaneous and -heart-felt, that the Australians suddenly felt themselves “belong,” and -the beautiful old house became to them an Irish version of their own -Billabong. Ireland, always many-sided, showed them a new and fascinating -face. They had loved the lanes and bogs and moors where they had been -free to wander. But now they found themselves free of a wide demesne -where wealth and art had done all that was possible to aid Nature, with -a perfect understanding of where it was best to leave Nature alone. The -park, with its splendid old trees, and the well-kept fields around it, -gave opportunities for trying Sir John’s horses; and Norah and the boys -were soon under the spell of jumping the big banks that the hunters took -so cleverly,—although, at first, to see them jump on to a bank, change -feet with lightning rapidity, and leap down the far side, seemed to -Antipodean eyes more like a circus performance than ordinary riding! -Beyond the park stretched miles of deer-forest, unlike an ordinary -forest in that it had no trees,—being a great expanse of heathery hills -and moor, seamed and studded with rocks, streams babbling here and -there, half-hidden in deep channels fringed with long grass and heather -and ling. As land, it Was worthless; nothing would grow in the stony -barren soil save the moorland plants; but it formed a glorious ground -for long rambles. O’Neill was fast recovering his normal strength, and -his energy was always like a devouring fire; he could not, however, walk -far, and he and David Linton would find rocky seats on the moor while -Norah and the boys rambled far over the deer-forest, often stalking -patiently for an hour, armed with field-glasses, to catch a glimpse of -the shy red-deer. - -“A don’t know why people want to shoot them,” Norah said, after a long -crawl through the rough heather, which had resulted in a splendid view -of a magnificent stag. “They’re so beautiful; and it’s just as much fun -to stalk them like this!” To which Jim and Wally returned non-committal -grunts, and exchanged, privately, glances of amazement at the -strangeness of the feminine outlook. - -Sometimes there were days on the lough at the far end of the Rathcullen -bog: a well-stocked lough where no outside fishing was permitted, and -which yielded them trout of a weight far beyond their dreams; and there -were motor-drives far afield, exploring the country-side, with Sir John -always ready with legends and stories of the “ould ancient” times. Even -on wet days the big Rolls-Royce would appear early in the morning, -bearing an urgent invitation; and wet days were easy to spend in -Rathcullen—in the great hall, the well-stocked library, the -conservatories, or the picture-gallery, where faces of long-dead -O’Neills, some of them startlingly like their host, stared down at them -from the panelled walls. In the billiard-room Wally and Jim fought -cheerful battles, while Mr. Linton would write Australian letters in the -library, and Norah and Sir John explore other nooks and corners of the -great house, or discourse music after their own fashion. His friendship -seemed fitted to each: with Mr. Linton he could be the man of affairs, -deeply-read and thoughtful; while to the boys and Norah he was the most -delightful of chums, as full of fun even as Wally. - -“He fits in so,” said Jim. “He’s never in our way, and—what is a good -deal more wonderful—I don’t believe we’re ever in his!” - -Many times Sir John begged them to transfer themselves altogether to -Rathcullen. But something of Australian independence held them back; -they preferred to retain their rooms at the Lough Aniller house, though -it saw less and less of them in the daytime, and Timsy openly bewailed -their constant absence—until the sergeant came home on furlough, when -Timsy promptly forgot every one else in the world, and walked with his -head in clouds of glory. - -“Indeed,” Mr. Linton said, one day, in answer to a renewed -invitation—“I am frequently ashamed to think how completely we seem to -have quartered ourselves on you, O’Neill. It’s hardly fair to inflict -you still further.” - -“If you could but guess what you have done for me, you might be -surprised,” Sir John answered. - -They were in the motor, running along a smooth high road near the little -narrow-gauge railway line. Ahead, Norah and the boys could be seen -across a field, riding; they had come across country, taking banks and -ditches as they came, and were making towards a point where they were -all to meet. John O’Neill looked at the racing trio with a smile. - -“I was in a pretty bad way when Wally dropped on me in the boreen that -morning,” he said, presently. - -“He said you were suffering terribly,” David Linton said. - -“Oh—that was nothing. I’m fairly well used to pain when my stupid -attacks come on, though that had certainly been a stiff one. But—well, -I think I was beginning to lose heart. My physical disadvantages have -always been in my way, naturally; but I have managed to keep them in the -background to a certain extent and live a man’s life, even in a -second-rate fashion. But since the war began I couldn’t do it. I was so -useless—a cumberer of the ground, when every man was needed. My people -have always been fighters, until——until I came, to blot the record.” - -“You have no right to say that,” said David Linton, sharply. “You did -more than thousands of men are doing.” - -“I did what I could. But I wanted to fight, man—to fight! If you knew -how I envied every private I saw marching through London! every lucky -youngster with a sound heart and a pair of straight shoulders. I had -always set my teeth, before, and got through a man’s work, somehow or -other. But here was something I couldn’t do—they wouldn’t have me. And -even over what work I was able to tackle, I went to pieces. When I came -back to Ireland I felt like rubbish, flung out of the way—out of the -way of men who were men.” - -“It’s not fair to feel like that,” David Linton said. “And it is not -true.” - -“Well—you have all helped me to believe that perhaps I am not -altogether on the dust-heap. You came when I was desperate; every day in -Rathcullen was making me worse. I couldn’t go into the picture-gallery; -the fighting-men on the walls seemed to look at me in scorn to see to -what a poor thing the old house had come down. And then you all came, -and you didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong with me. You made -me one of you—even those youngsters, full of all the energy and -laughter and youth of that big young country of yours. They have made a -chum of me: I haven’t laughed for years as I’ve laughed in the last -fortnight. And I’m fitter than I’ve been for years—I’ve forgotten to -think of myself, and when you all go I also am going back, to work. -There must be work, even for me.” - -“For you! Why, you’re a young man, full of energy, even if you can’t -have active service,” said David Linton. “And I am a grey old man, but -there’s work for me. Don’t think that you have no job, because you can’t -get the job you like; that’s an easy attitude to adopt. Every man can -find his job if he looks for it with his eyes open.” - -“Well, you have helped mine to open,” O’Neill said. “I was miserable -because I had hitched my wagon to a star and had found I couldn’t drive -it. The old servants—bless their kind hearts!—were purring over me and -pitying me, and I was feeling raw; and then you all walked into my life -and declined to notice that I was a useless dwarf——” - -“Because you aren’t,” said the other man, sharply. “Don’t talk utter -nonsense!” - -O’Neill laughed. - -“Well—I won’t forget,” he said. “But I am grateful; only I sometimes -wonder if I ask for too much of your time. Do you think the youngsters -are bored?” - -“Bored!” Mr. Linton said in amazement. “Why, they are having the time of -their lives! I could not possibly have given them half the pleasure you -have Put in their way. You talk of gratitude, but to my mind it should -be entirely on our side.” - -“No,” said O’Neill firmly. “Still, I’m glad to think they are enjoying -themselves,—not merely being polite and benevolent!” Whereat David -Linton broke into laughter. - -“I trust they’d be polite in any circumstances,” he said. “But even -politeness has its limits. You wouldn’t call that sort of thing forced, -would you? Look.” - -He pointed across a field. Norah and the boys were galloping to meet -them. They flashed up a little hill, dipped down into a hollow, and -scurried up another rise, where a stiff bank met them, with a deep drop -into the next field. Norah’s brown pony got over it with the cleverness -of a cat, and she raced ahead of the boys, who set sail after her, -vociferating quite unintelligible remarks about people who took unfair -short cuts. Their merry voices brought echoes from the hills. Norah -maintained her advantage until a low bank brought them out into the -road, and all together they trotted towards the waiting motor. Their -glowing faces sufficiently answered Sir John’s doubts. - -“Why, of course you beat them, Norah—easily!” he said, shamelessly -ignoring the boys’ side of the race. “Didn’t I tell you that pony could -beat most things in Donegal, if she got the chance?” - -“I did cut a corner,” Norah admitted, laughing. “But ’tis themselves has -the animals of great size—and they flippant leppers!” She dropped into -brogue with an ease born of close association with Timsy and his -parents. “Sir John, is that the Doon Rock?” - -She pointed with her whip to a great rocky eminence half a mile away. - -“Yes, that’s the Rock,” O’Neill answered. “It’s rather a landmark, isn’t -it? We’ll wait for you at the foot, if you’ll jog on after us.” - -The riders followed the motor slowly. The road led past the great mass, -half hill, half rock, that towered over the little fields. It was about -three hundred feet high, with sparse vegetation endeavouring to find a -footing on its rugged sides, and grey boulders, weather-worn and clothed -with lichen, jutting out, grim and bleak. The motor halted under its -shadow, and the groom who occupied the front seat with Con, the lame -chauffeur, led the horses away to a cottage close by. - -A few hundred yards away a curious sight puzzled the Australians. On a -little green, where some grey stones marked a well, was a little -plantation of sticks stuck in the ground. Fluttering rags waved from -many of them, and ornamented the ragged brambles near the well. - -“You haven’t seen a holy well, have you?” O’Neill asked. “That is one of -the most famous—the Well of Doon.” - -“But what are the sticks?” Wally asked. - -“Come and see.” - -They walked over to the well. A deeply marked path led to it, and all -about it the ground was beaten hard by the feet of many people, save in -the patch of ground where the sticks stood upright. There were all kinds -of sticks; rough stakes, cut from a hedge, ash-plants, blackthorns—some -of no value, others well-finished and costly. Rags, white and coloured, -fluttered from them. And there was more than one crutch, standing -straight and stiff among the lesser sticks. - -“But what is it?” breathed Norah. - -“It’s a holy well. Hundreds of years ago there was a great sickness in -the country, and the people sent to a saint who had originally come from -these parts, begging him to come and help them. The saint was in Rome, -and he could not come. But he was sorry for the people; and the legend -goes that he threw his staff into a well in Rome, and it sank, and -emerged from the water of the Well of Doon here: and ever since then the -people believe that the water has healing power, and that it will heal -anyone who pilgrimages to it barefoot.” - -“But does it?” asked Wally, incredulously. - -“Well—they say the age of miracles is past. But the age of -faith-healing is not; and you won’t find an Irishman, whatever his -religion, sneering at the old holy places of Ireland. I don’t pretend to -understand these things, but I respect them. And then—there is no doubt -whatever as to the genuineness, and the permanence, of many of the -cures.” He pointed to the little forest of sticks. “Look at those -sticks: each one left here by a grateful man or woman who came leaning -on the stick, and went away not needing it.” - -“Great Scott!” said Wally. “And the rags?” - -“They are votive offerings. If you look on that flat stone near the well -you’ll find hundreds of others—tokens, medals, little ornaments, even -hairpins: all valueless, but left by people too poor to give even a -penny. They believe the saint understands: and I think he would be a -hard saint if he did not.” - -The stone was almost covered with tiny offerings. - -“Does no one touch them?” Jim asked. - -“They’re sacred. If you left money there it would not be touched.” He -pointed to a handful of wilting daisies. “I expect those were left by -children on their way to school. All the poor know that it is the -spirit, not the letter, of an offering that counts: and even those -daisies are left in perfect faith that the saint will see to the matter -if trouble should come to them.” - -“I never thought such beliefs still existed,” said Mr. Linton, greatly -interested. “Look at this crutch—it’s quite good, and looks -newly-planted.” - -A woman, barefooted and with a shawl over her head, had come across the -grass from the cottage. She curtseyed to O’Neill. - -“It was left this morning, sir,” she said, indicating the crutch. “Sure, -the man that owned it was in a bad way: he come from Dublin, an’ he -crippled in his hip. On a side-car they brought him, and there was two -men to lift him on and off it, and he yellow with the dint of the pain -he had. I seen him limping on his crutch across to the well. And when he -went away he walked over to the car as aisy as you or me, and not a limp -on him at all, and him throwing a leg on to the car like a boy.” - -“You mean to say he went away cured?” exclaimed Mr. Linton. - -“Sure, there’s his crutch,” said the woman, simply. “He’d no more use at -all for it.” - -“Well-l!” The Australians looked blankly at each other. - -“’Tis fourteen years I’ve been living over beyant,” said the woman. -“I’ve seen them come on sticks and on crutches; some of them carried, -and some of them put on cars: but they all walked away—all that had -faith in the saint. Why wouldn’t they?” - -It was a brief question that somehow left them without any answer, since -simple faith is too big a thing to meddle with. They said good-bye to -the woman and went back to the Rock, where the groom was waiting to help -his master in the climb—an old groom with a face like a withered rosy -apple. The ascent was not difficult: a winding path led to the summit of -the Rock, and they were soon at the top. - -“Between them, Elizabeth and Cromwell didn’t leave us many of our old -monuments,” said O’Neill, looking away across the country. “But thank -goodness they couldn’t touch the Doon Rock!” - -The summit was almost flat; a long narrow plateau with soft grass -growing in its hollows. One end was wider than the other, with a kind of -saddle connecting the two: and in the middle of the smaller end was a -great flat stone that looked almost like an altar. All about the high, -precipitous eminence the country lay like an unrolled map far beneath -them: a wide expanse of flat moor and field and fallow, in the midst of -which the great Rock showed, almost startling in its rugged steepness. -Little villages were dotted here and there, and sometimes could be seen -the blue gleam of water. The white smoke of a train made a creeping line -against the dark bog. - -Con and the groom had placed the luncheon-basket in a grassy hollow -where there was shelter from the breeze that swept keenly across the -high Rock; and had retreated with the instinctive delicacy of the Irish -peasant, who never intrudes upon “the genthry” when eating, and himself -prefers to eat alone. After lunch, Norah and Wally collected the débris -of the feast and burned it under the lee side of a boulder, in the -belief that no decent person leaves such things as picnic-papers for the -next comer to see: and then they strolled across the narrow saddle to -the stone on the farther side, where the others had already wandered. - -“Tell us about it, Sir John, please,” Norah begged. - -“It was here that the old O’Donnell chiefs were inaugurated,” O’Neill -said. “They were the rulers of Tyrconnell, which is now north-west -Ulster: the old name is still used in a good deal of Irish poetry. All -the clan used to gather when a new leader was to be installed, the -people clustering down in the plain below, and the chieftain and his -principal men up here on the Rock. It must have been worth seeing.” - -Jim drew a long breath. - -“I should just think so,” he said, “Tell us more, O’Neill: I want to -reconstruct it. This old Rock must have looked just the same as it does -to-day. It’s something to have seen even that!” - -“Just the same,” said Sir John, his eyes kindling at the boy’s -enthusiasm. “The Inauguration Stone may have been in better -preservation, but a few dozen centuries can’t do much to the Rock. -Well—you can picture the people down below, thousands of them. All the -country would be a great unfenced plain—no banks and hedges such as you -see to-day, and very likely no roads worth calling roads. There would be -forests, most probably, and, in them, animals that became extinct long -ago, like the wild boar and wolf. The ground below would be a great -camp—every one making merry and dressed in their best.” - -“I should think that even in those days it wouldn’t take much to make an -Irish crowd merry,” Wally said. - -“They would have plenty of entertainment: jugglers, fortune-tellers, -buffoons in painted masks, and champions, showing feats with weapons and -strength—probably ‘spoiling for a fight.’ Music there would be in -abundance: pipes, tube-players, harps, and bands of chorus-singers. -There would be any amount of fun in the crowd. But, of course, the Rock -would be the centre of everyone’s thoughts.” - -“It’s all coming quite distinctly,” said Norah, who was sitting on the -grass, gazing out over the plain. “If you look hard you can see them -all, in saffron kilts and flowing cloaks like you told us, Sir John. Now -tell us who is up here on the Rock.” - -“The new chief is where Wally is, sitting on the great stone,” said -O’Neill, smiling at her. “Do you want to know what he’s wearing?” - -“Oh, please!” - -“Well, you can picture him a goodly man, to begin with, for no chief -could reign unless he were a champion, free from the slightest physical -defect. ‘He was graceful and beautiful of form, without blemish or -reproach,’ one old chronicle says. ‘Fair yellow hair he had, and it -bound with a golden band to keep it from loosening. A red buckler upon -him, with stars and animals of gold thereon, and fastenings of silver. A -crimson cloak in wide descending folds around him, fastened at his neck -with precious stones. A torque of gold round his neck’—that’s a broad -twisted band: you can see them to-day in the Museum in Dublin. ‘A white -shirt with a full collar upon him, intertwined with red gold thread. A -girdle of gold, inlaid with precious stones, around him. Two wonderful -shoes of gold, with golden loops, about the feet. Two spears with golden -sockets in his hands, with rivets of red bronze.’ There—can you see -him, Norah?” - -“I’m trying, but he dazzles me!” Norah said. “Go on, please. Who else is -there?” - -“All his nobles and councillors, dressed almost as splendidly as the -chief himself. The old books are full of details of the richness of -their apparel: gold and silver and fine clothing must have been an -ordinary thing with them—and not only was it so, but the workmanship -was exquisite. They had ‘shirts ribbed with gold thread, crimson fringed -cloaks, embroidered coats of rejoicing, clothing of red silk, and shirts -of the dearest silk.’ They wore helmets, and carried spears, ’sharp, -thin, hard-pointed, with rivets of gold and silk thongs for throwing’; -‘long swords, with hilts and guards of gold; and shields of silver, with -rim and boss of gold.’ One man is described as ‘having in his hand a -small-headed, white-breasted hound, with a collar of rubbed gold and a -chain of old silver’: and a horse had a bridle of silver rings and a -gold bit. They had shoes of white bronze, and great golden brooches, -with ‘gold chains about their necks and bands of gold above them -again.’” - -O’Neill stopped and laughed. - -“I could go on for a long time,” he said. “But I’m afraid it begins to -sound like the description of Solomon’s Temple!” - -“And to think,” said Jim, unheeding him, “that we had a vague idea that -Ireland had been inhabited only by savages!” - -“Schools don’t teach you anything about Ireland,” said O’Neill, -contemptuously. “A few hours among the exquisite old things in the -Dublin Museum would open your eyes: the finest goldsmiths and -silversmiths of the present world cannot touch the beauty of the -workmanship of the treasures there;—and some of them were dug up out of -bogs, after lying there no one knows how many hundred or thousand years. -They were craftsmen in those days, and they loved the work. You don’t -get that spirit in Trades Union times!” - -“Oh, don’t talk about Trades Unions!” Norah cried. “We’re on the Doon -Rock, and I can see all those people round the chief, and the crowd on -the plain below, looking up. What else, Sir John?” - -“There would be white-robed Druids,” O’Neill said; “and the King’s bards -or poets would be about him. The bard was a very important person and a -high functionary, with wide powers. In a sense he was the -war-correspondent of his day: he never fought, but he was always present -at a battle, and very much in it, noting the heroic deeds of the -warriors, and afterwards recording them in his songs. Poetry in those -days was a most business-like and practical thing, for everything of any -importance was written in verse, such as the laws, the genealogies of -the clans, and their history. The poet held an exalted position, and was -educated for it from his boyhood by a course of careful study: and the -chief poet ranked next to the king, and went about with almost as fine a -retinue. They were the professors of their day, and kept schools for -training lads for their order. A man had to be very careful not to -offend one, or he would write a satire against the culprit; and these -satires were dreaded extremely, since they were believed to cause -disaster and desolation to fall not only on a man but on his whole -family. Nowadays, editors are said to keep special wastepaper baskets -for dealing with poets, but it wouldn’t have done in the ould ancient -times—the post of an editor would have been too unhealthy!” - -“I suppose it is through them that the old stories have come down,” Jim -said. - -“Of course. They had to write the verse-tales, and they had to tell -them, too; they were obliged to learn and teach three hundred and fifty -kinds of versification, and an Ollave, or chief poet, could recite at -any moment any of three hundred and fifty stories. They did a lot of -harm, because they abused their power; and at last, in the sixth -century, were nearly banished from Ireland altogether. Columcille saved -them from that fate, but they were made much less important. However, -the poets that you are looking at with your mind’s eye, Norah, were ages -before that, and you can imagine them as gorgeous and as haughty as -possible, and every one is very polite to them.” - -“I’m going to get off this stone and make room for the chief,” said -Wally, solemnly, rising. “There’s the ghost of a poet, glaring at me, -and he’s going to burst into a satire.” He subsided on the grass beside -Norah. “Go on, please.” - -“Well, that is the crowd on top of the Rock,” Sir John said: “nobles, -councillors, poets, and Druids, all in order of rank: the Rock would -hold three or four hundred, all told. And the crowd below, gazing up. -I’m glad you got off the stone, Wally, because the chief wants it now. -He takes off his wonderful shoes of gold, and places one foot on the -stone, and swears to preserve all ancient customs inviolable, to deliver -up the rulership peaceably, when the time comes, to his successor, to -rule the people with justice, and to maintain the laws. Then he puts -away his weapons, and the highest of his nobles, an hereditary official, -gives him a straight white rod in token of authority—straight, to -remind him that his administration should be just, and white, that his -actions should be pure and upright. Then he gives him new sandals: and -keeping one of the golden shoes, he throws the other over the new -chief’s head and proclaims him O’Donnell. All the nobles repeat the -title—can’t you hear the mighty shout, and the crowd below taking it -up, so that it rings over Tyrconnell!” - -“Oh-h!” breathed Norah. “And it was here, where we are sitting!” She put -her hand on the ground that had felt the tramp of the hosts of ancient -days. “Was that all, Sir John?” - -“That ended the ceremony; except that each subject paid a cow as -rod-money, a sort of tribute to the new chief. But of course there was -high feasting and festival, probably for days. They had splendid feasts, -too. Once, when one of the great nobles entertained the chief and all -the men of Tyrconnel, the preparations took a whole year. A special -house was built, surpassing all other buildings in beauty of -architecture, with splendid pillars and carvings: in the banqueting-hall -the wainscotting was of bronze thirty feet high, overlaid with gold. It -took a wagon-team to carry each beam, and the strength of seven men to -fix each pole; and the royal couch was set with precious stones ‘radiant -with every hue, making night bright as day.’” - -O’Neill broke off, and hesitated. - -“Do I tell you too much?” he asked. “I’m afraid my tongue runs away with -me—but I did want you to realize something of what Ireland was. There -were great men in those days, and the fighting-men had high ideals of -what great champions should be. It is what kept us all through our -lifetime,’ one said—‘truth that was in our hearts, and strength in our -arms, and fulfilment on our tongues.’” - -He was silent, looking away. The proud soul, pent in the misshapen body, -found comfort in turning from the present, that held so little for him, -back to the mighty past when the O’Neills, too, had been chieftains and -champions. - -Presently he stood up, with a shrug. - -“Time we went down, I’m afraid,” he said, cheerfully. “Before we go, -Norah, I will proceed to relate for your benefit the six womanly gifts -which were demanded of properly-brought-up young women in the high and -far-off times in Ireland. They were, the gift of modest behaviour, the -gift of singing, the gift of sweet speech, the gift of beauty, the gift -of wisdom, and the gift of needlework!” - -“Wow!” said poor Norah, in dismay. “Perhaps it’s as well I got born in -Australia!” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - NORTHWARD - - - “Says he to all belongin’ him, ‘Now happy may ye be! - But I’m off to find me fortune,’ sure he says, says he.” - MOIRA O’NEILL. - -‟IS Mr. Linton in, Timsy?” - -“He is, sir. Leastways, he’s out, down by the lough, and all of them -with him.” The small boy looked up at Sir John O’Neill with more awe -than he was wont to regard most people. “Will I get him for you, sir?” - -“No—I’ll go down, myself. Is your father well, Timsy?” - -“He does be splendid, sir,” said Timsy, his eye brightening. “Only -they’ll be takin’ him back soon, to fight them ould Germans.” - -“I expect Lord Kitchener can’t do without him,” said Sir John, -confidentially. “Never mind,—we’ll have him back in Donegal altogether, -before long, please goodness. And whisper, Timsy—when he comes back for -good, he’ll have a splendid medal on his coat!” He patted the small boy -on the head and left him speechless before a prospect so tremendous. - -The Linton party was discovered by the well on the lough shore, where -Wally was scratching the nose of the patient donkey and talking to him, -as Norah said, as man to man. He had his back to the path down from the -garden, and did not hear Sir John’s approach. - -“If you’d come back to Australia with us, acushla machree,” he said, -“I’d guarantee you the best of grass and you wouldn’t have any water to -draw at, all.” The ass drooped his head lower, and appeared, not at all -impressed by this dazzling future. “And Murty would love you, and Norah -would ride you after cattle.” (“I would _not_!” from Norah.) “And you -could tell the horses about Ireland, and we’d tie green ribbons round -your neck on St. Patrick’s Day, and let you wave a green flag with a -harp on it in your pearl-pale hand. Oh, lovely ass——!” - -“Were you speaking to me?” asked Sir John, politely, near his ear; and -Wally jumped, and joined in the laugh against himself. - -“We’re twin-souls, this patient person and myself,” he explained. “I’ve -found it out, and I’m trying to make the ass see it. Never mind, old -chap; we’ll continue this profitable conversation when we are alone; -unfeeling listeners only make you bashful.” He produced a carrot from -his pocket, and the ass ate it, despondently. - -“I’m awfully sorry to have interrupted your heart-to-heart talk; but the -fact is, Mr. Linton, I’m simply bursting with an idea, and I had to -hurry over and put it before you.” Sir John spoke eagerly, turning to -Norah with a laugh. “Is it a good moment to approach him, Norah? I want -him to promise to do something.” - -“He ate a noble breakfast,” said Norah, gravely. “And he’s nearly -finished his pipe. I should think the moment’s favourable. Anyway, it -will have to be now, because I simply can’t wait to hear what it is!” - -“You see, we know your ideas, O’Neill,” Mr. Linton said, laughing. “They -generally combine a great deal of trouble for yourself with something -quite new in the way of entertainment for us. This must be particularly -outrageous, as you want me to promise beforehand. I think you had better -make a clean breast of it.” - -“Well, it’s this,” Sir John answered. “The weather is glorious, and the -glass is high; it’s useless weather for fishing, and I think you have -explored this neighbourhood pretty thoroughly. The motor holds six quite -easily. What do you say to a trip north—a little tour, to last about a -week?” - -Subdued gasps came from Norah, Jim, and Wally. Mr. Linton laughed -outright. - -“What did I tell you?” he demanded. - -“Not at all,” responded Sir John. “I think”—unblushingly—“that Con -needs a change; and it would be an excellent way to give him one, if you -would only be kind enough to help me. You surely wouldn’t refuse poor -Con such a little thing!” - -“I’ve re-cast a good many of my ideas about Ireland,” David Linton said. -“But to utilize five people to take one chauffeur for a change is -certainly what I was brought up to call an Irish way of doing things! -Seriously, however, O’Neill, your proposal is a very tempting one. Shall -we put it to the committee?” - -“The committee says, ‘Carried _nem. con._’ I should say,” said Jim. “It -would be simply top-hole. But isn’t it putting rather a strain on you -and the motor?” - -“Certainly not—as far as I am concerned, a run in sea-air is all I need -to make me quite fit again,” O’Neill answered. “What do you say about -it, Norah?” - -“I’m speechless; and as for Wally, he’s leaning up against the ass for -support,” said Norah, indicating Mr. Meadows, who grasped the hapless -donkey fondly. “It’s the most glorious plan, Sir John; and it’s just -like you, to think of it.” - -O’Neill’s delicate face flushed with pleasure. - -“You’re all such satisfactory people, because you’re never bored,” he -said. “And then, you like Ireland, which makes everything delightful. -Well, I thought we might have a look at Horn Head and Sheep Haven, Mr. -Linton, and perhaps get across to The Rosses; or would you rather have -no fixed plan, but just wander about, seeking what we may find? There -are innumerable little bays and inlets up there, all rather fascinating; -we should be between mountain and sea scenery, and the inns here and -there are fairly good.” - -“I think we will leave it entirely to you, so far as planning the route -goes,” Mr. Linton answered. “You know the country, and we don’t; and as -for us, any part of Ireland is good.” - -“I vote for having no fixed plan at all,” Jim said. “It’s when you have -no plans that the best things happen to you!” - -“We’ll leave it at that, then,” said Sir John. “Can we start to-morrow?” - -“We have only two weeks more leave,” said Jim. “So the sooner we go the -better.” - -“And you can be ready, Norah?” - -“Me? Oh, certainly,” said Norah, who, Wally declared, was always ready -at any time for anything. - -“Then, I’ll be off,” Sir John declared. “I left Con hard at work on the -car, giving her a thorough overhaul—we could not believe that you would -be so hard-hearted as to refuse him the trip! But I have a good many -things to see to, and I’ll have a busy day.” - -“Could I help you?” Jim asked. “I’m handy at odd jobs.” - -“Would you care to? I’ll be awfully glad of your company,” said Sir John -warmly. They went off together, the boy’s great shoulders towering above -O’Neill’s dwarfed form. - -Jim did not return until late that night. Norah, just about to blow out -her candle, heard his light step on the stair and called to him softly. - -“Not asleep yet, kiddie?” Jim said, sitting down on the bed. “You should -be; you’ll be tired to-morrow.” - -“I’m all right,” said Norah, disregarding this friendly caution. “Jim, I -packed your bag; and there’s a list of things just inside it, in case I -made any mistakes.” - -“Well, you are a brick!” said Jim, who was accustomed to stern -independence, but, like most people, greatly appreciated a little -spoiling now and then. “I was looking forward rather dismally to a -midnight packing; O’Neill wants to get off quite early in the morning.” - -“We guessed that was likely. Did you have a good day, Jim?” - -“Quite. I don’t think I was any particular help to O’Neill; he found a -few jobs for me, but I fancy he had to rack his brains for them. But we -pottered about together all day, and had a very jolly time; he’s such -fun when he’s in good form, and he was like a kid to-day. Made me laugh -no end.” Jim pondered, beginning to unlace his boots. “I think it’s only -when he is alone that those bitter fits get hold of him; and he just -dreads being alone. That’s why he took me over, of course.” - -“I thought so,” nodded Norah. “But I do think he’s happier than he was, -Jim.” - -“I believe he is. Well, we’ll try to keep him laughing for the next week -or so, anyhow,” said Jim. “Now, you go to sleep, old kiddie.” - -The fine weather held, making it easy to leave trout which would have -nothing to do with them; and next day the motor took them away into -bypaths of Ireland, with new beauty and new legend at every turn. They -passed Gartan, and saw the birthplace of Saint Columba, a tiny stone -cell with a curiously indented stone; and Columba’s ruined church of -grey stone, roofless, and with almost-effaced carvings on its walls. -Near it a tall, narrow stone stood crookedly—all that remained of a -cross. The ground before it, hard as iron, was hollowed where the knees -of thousands of pilgrims had knelt in prayer, and the stone itself was -smooth from kisses that had been pressed upon it through century after -century. Sir John knew many legends of the hot-tempered, fighting saint, -whose warlike proclivities eventually led to his banishment from the -Ireland he loved, to work and suffer home-sickness until Death came at -last to release him. - -“The emigrants pray to him specially, since he, too, knew what it meant -to be lonely for Ireland,” Sir John said. “He was a worker: he wrote -three hundred books and founded the same number of churches. So he came -to be called Columcille—_cille_ meaning church. An O’Donnell he was: -one of the old house. He made a famous copy of the Psalms, the disputed -ownership of which caused the fight that led to his leaving Ireland: and -this copy—it was called The Cathach, or Battler—was an heirloom in the -O’Donnell family, who always carried it with them into battle, in a -shrine. One hates to think of him, exiled, working, and longing for -home. The first monastery he founded was near Derry; he was only a young -man then, but long afterwards he wrote that the angels of God sang in -every glade of Derry’s oaks. I always think one can see him in this -queer little church—big and powerful, with the fighting face and -toilworn hands.” - -For a time they kept near the railway that creeps through the heart of -Donegal: a quaint, narrow-gauge line where the trains saunter, forgetful -of time. Its way runs through deep bogs, which made its construction no -light matter, since solid foundation was in some places only found -eighty feet below the surface, and great causeways, embankments, and -viaducts had to be built to carry it. Sometimes, in contrast, the way -had to be hewn through solid rock. On one hand lay wild and rugged -mountains, with some fine dominating peaks: Muckish—“the hog’s -back”—with its long, flattened ridge, changing from every angle of -vision; and the great peak of Errigal, bare and glistening, the highest -mountain in Donegal. - -“It’s a great old peak,” said Sir John, looking at it affectionately. -“You can see Scotland from the top—and all over Donegal, and southward -to the Sligo and Galway hills.” - -“How it glistens!” said Norah, watching the great cone as the motor went -slowly along. “What makes it so white?” - -“That’s white quartz; it gives it its name, ‘the silver mountain.’ It -looks a single peak from here, but as we round it you’ll see that there -are really two heads close together; there is a narrow ridge, with a -track about a foot wide, connecting them. Some day, when you all come -back to stay with me at Rathcullen, we must arrange an expedition for -you to climb it.” - -Their wandering way led them from the railway line, after a time; and -they struck northward into lonely country of moors and bogs, dotted with -tiny cabins from which blue turf-smoke curled lazily. Once they passed -an old man riding a grey mare, with his wife perched behind him on a -pillion, holding under her shawl a turkey in a sack, from the mouth of -which protruded the head of the indignant bird, making loud protests. -None of the women they met, whether young or old, wore hats: all had the -heavy Irish shawl round head and shoulders,—and whether the face that -looked from the folds were that of a withered old woman or a fresh and -smiling colleen, somehow the shawl seemed the best setting that could -have been devised for it. - -Often, for miles and miles, they met no one and passed no habitation: or -perhaps the loneliness of the way would be broken by a little thatched -cabin, where ragged children ran to the doorway, to gaze, round-eyed, at -the strangers. In one little town, however, a fair was in progress, and -the cobbled street presented a lively spectacle. Men, women and -children; asses, ridden and driven; horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs, and -a few stray geese, mingled in loud-voiced confusion, while dogs slipped -hither and thither, managing to intensify the urgency of any situation. -To get the big Rolls-Royce through such a concourse was no easy task, -and even with a people so good-humoured, a tactless driver would have -achieved swift unpopularity. Sir John, however, was at the wheel -himself, and he slowed down to a crawl, sounding the hooter -occasionally, more in the manner of a gentle suggestion than anything -else. His Irish accent was a shade more in evidence than usual as he -exchanged greetings with the crowd. - -“’Tis a fine season we’re having, thank God!” - -“It is, your honour. G’wan now, Mary Kate; get the little ass out of the -way of the mothor.” - -“Ah, don’t be hurrying her. I have plenty of time.” - -“Sure ye’d need it, your honour, the place is that throng.” - -“And that’s a good sign; it’s a great fair you’re having!” - -“Well indeed, sir, it is not bad, thank God!” - -O’Neill swerved to avoid an old woman in an ass-cart, who was talking -volubly to some neighbours, while the ass took its own direction among -the crowd. Voices broke into swift upbraidings. - -“Take a howld of the ass there, will you, Maria Cooney!” - -“Oh, wirra, it’s desthroyed she’ll be!” - -“She will not, but the great mothor!” - -“Is it to scratch the beautiful paint ye would, with the cart!” cried a -wrathful man hauling the ass aside bodily, while the unhappy Mrs. Cooney -stammered out excuses that no one heard, and blinked feebly at the -Rolls-Royce—which was pardonable, since she had never seen one before. - -“God help us, ’tis the heighth of a house!” - -“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” said O’Neill, smiling at her -distressed face. The crowd broke into smiles in answer. - -“’Tis not like the Englishman he is—the one that galloped his machine -over Ellen Clancy’s gander, an’ he goin’ to Rosapenna!” shrilled a -voice. - -“Watch him now—and the bonnivs under the wheels of him!”—as a drove of -fat pink pigs broke through the crowd, scattered, in the infuriating -manner peculiar to pigs, and resisted all efforts to collect them out of -harm’s way. Their owner, a lean, black-whiskered man, lifted up his -voice and bewailed them. - -“Yerra, he have them thrampled! No—aisy, sir, just a moment, till I get -at him with a stick. That one do be always in the wrong place.” He -hauled a pig bodily from beneath the car, retaining it by one leg, while -it drowned any other remarks with its shrieks, and its companions -scattered through the crowd, pursued hotly by the dogs. - -“Sorry—I ought not to bring a motor through a fair,” said O’Neill, -willing to concede the right to the road to the “bonnivs.” - -“An’ why wouldn’t you?” said their owner, cheerfully. “Many’s the time -I’d not so much as the one left to me when I’d brang ’em through, an’ I -scourin’ every boreen after them. Let you go on, sir—it’s all right.” - -The motor wormed its way along. When the crowd grew less congested, -O’Neill ventured to increase the speed. Just as he did so, a small -child, escaping from its mother, who was driving a wordy bargain over a -matter of geese, toddled into the road in pursuit of a fat puppy; and -having caught it, sat down suddenly, right in the path of the motor. - -A girl shrieked, and O’Neill wrenched the car to a standstill, the -bonnet not two yards from the baby. Jim was out in the road in a flash, -and picked up the urchin, who showed considerable annoyance at the -escape of the puppy, but was otherwise quite unmoved, and accepted a -penny with a composure worthy of a duke. The crowd collected anew with -unbelievable swiftness, and O’Neill groaned. - -“’Tis Maggie O’Hare’s baby. Woman, dear, where are ye? an’ he after -being nearly kilt on ye?” - -“Did ye see his honour pull up? An ass wouldn’t have done it, an’ he -dhrawin’ a cart!” - -“I seen him sit down in the road, in-under the mothor, an’ I knew he was -dead, only I’d not time to let a bawl out of me!” - -“Is it dead? Sure, look at him, an’ the big gentleman carryin’ him, no -less!” - -“Grinning he is, the way you’d say he was the best boy in Ireland. Ah, -that’s the dotey wee thing!” - -“Sure, that one has no fear at all. _He_’ll be the boy for the -trenches!” - -At this point Maggie O’Hare arrived breathlessly, having just become -aware of her son’s peril—with some difficulty, owing to six of her -friends having excitedly explained the matter together. To an -unprejudiced onlooker, it would have seemed that her principal maternal -emotion was horror at finding her offspring perched on Jim’s shoulder. - -“Come down out of that, Micky—have behaviour, now, an’ don’t be -throublin’ the gentleman! Put him down, sir—I’d not have you annoyed -with him.” She received Micky with much apparent wrath, but her arms -were tight round the little body. “Isn’t it the rascal he is!—an’ I but -lettin’ him out of me hand that minute, the way I’d be feedin’ the -goose!” - -In England, Jim had learned to give tips; and for a moment his hand -sought his pocket. Fortunately, he checked the impulse in time. The -woman’s eyes met his with the good breeding that lends something of -dignity to the poorest Irish peasant. - -“He’s a great boy,” he said, in his pleasant voice. “Not a bit of fear -in him—have you, Micky?” He lifted his cap, and said “Good-bye,” -striding back to the motor. They moved on, slowly, leaving the little -town seething behind them. - -“It isn’t altogether without incident to drive through a fair!” said -O’Neill, dreamily. - -Towards evening they came to their halting-place for the night—a grey -village, nestling among brown hills. - -“The inn used to be very fair, but one can’t guarantee anything in -war-time,” Sir John remarked. “Of course it isn’t big enough to suffer -from the complaint that suddenly affected all the important hotels—the -hurried departure of French cooks and German waiters. Many hotel-keepers -will speak until the end of their lives, with tears in their voices, -about the awful day when Henri and Gaston, and Fritz and Karl, the props -of their establishment, dropped their aprons and fled to their -respective Fatherlands. You can’t convince those hotel-keepers that they -do not know all about the horrors of war!” - -“This little place doesn’t suggest imported cooks and waiters,” said Mr. -Linton. - -“No, as I remember it, the landlady was the cook, and her daughter the -housemaid; and a nondescript gentleman of the ‘odd-boy’ type doubled the -parts of boots, barkeeper, groom, and waiter, with any other varieties -of usefulness that might be demanded of him. And there he is still, by -the same token, bringing in a load of turf.” Sir John indicated a wiry -little man leading a shambling old black horse bearing two creels slung -across his back, piled high with sods. He turned into the back gateway -of the inn as they drew up at the front door; and, hearing the motor, -cast a glance over his shoulder, realized the presence of guests, and -administered a sounding slap on the black horse’s quarter, disappearing -hurriedly. They heard his voice, shrilly summoning the unseen. - -“Is himself within?—let ye hurry! There’s a pack of gentry at the door, -in a mothor-car!” And a voice yet more shrill: - -“Wirra! An’ me fire black out—an’ what in the world, at all, ’ll I give -’em for their dinners!” - -They made acquaintance with the problem a little later when, hungry and -cheerful, they gathered in the long, low dining-room, where last year’s -heather and ling filled the fireless grate. The “odd-boy,” cleansed -beyond belief, awaited them. - -“What can we have for dinner?” O’Neill inquired. - -“Is it dinner? Sure, anything you’d fancy, sir,” said the “odd-boy,” -with a nervous briskness that somehow induced disbelief. - -“H’m,” said Sir John, remembering the cry of woe that had floated -through the air, earlier. “Chops or steaks?” - -The “odd-boy” shifted from one foot to the other. - -“I’m afeard there’s none in the house, sir,” he said. “’Tis the way the -butcher——” - -“Oh well—cold meat,” O’Neill said, cutting short the butcher’s -iniquities. - -“Yes, sir—certainly, sir!” said the “odd boy,” and disappeared. There -was an interval during which the party admired the view and endeavoured -to repress the pangs of hunger. Finally the messenger reappeared. - -“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, nervously. “Cold meat is off, they do be -tellin’ me.” - -“Well, what can we have?” O’Neill said, losing the finer edge of his -patience. - -The “odd-boy” grew confidential. - -“’Tis this way, sir,” he said. “The fair was yesterday: an’ them -cattle-jobbers have us ate out of the house. So there’s just three -things ye can have, sir: an’ the first eggs; an’ the second’s bacon; and -third is eggs and bacon. An’ ye can have your choice-thing of them -three!” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - ASS-CART _VERSUS_ MOTOR - - - “The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea, - And there is traffic on it, and many a horse and cart: - But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me, - And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through my heart.” - EVA GORE-BOOTH. - -THROUGH the tiny window of Norah’s room came the soft sunlight which -makes an Irish morning so perfect a thing that to stay in bed a moment -longer than necessary would be criminal. Norah woke up, and looked at it -sleepily for a few minutes, wishing the window were bigger. It had -altogether declined to remain open the night before, until she had -propped it with the water-jug, which now stood rakishly on the sill, and -had already excited considerable interest and speculation in the street -below. She dressed quickly, somewhat embittered by the fact that -investigation discovered no sign of a bathroom. The search was a nervous -one, since the corridor seemed principally to consist of shut doors; and -after cautiously opening one which looked promising, but which revealed -a tousled head on a pillow, with loud snores saluting her, she was -seized with panic, and fled back to her own room. - -When she emerged, fully dressed, she still seemed the only person awake. -Downstairs, however, she encountered the “odd-boy,” who was sweeping the -hall with a lofty disregard of corners, wherein the dust of many -sweepings had accumulated in depressing heaps. Through a cloud of dust -he blinked in amazement at her. - -“Were you wantin’ anything, miss?” - -“No, thanks,” Norah answered; “I was going for a walk. Is there anything -to see in the village?” - -The “odd-boy” thought deeply, and finally replied with gloom that he -didn’t know why anybody would be looking at it at all. Then, suddenly -inspired, he hastened to the door in Norah’s wake. - -“There’s Willy Gallaher’s ould pig, miss, an’ she after having eleven of -the finest little ones yesterday. Ye’d ought to see them. Willy’s the -proud man. ’Twas himself was due for a bit of good luck, though, with -twins not a week old!” - -“Thanks,” said Norah, laughing. “But I’d rather see the twins.” Which -astounding preference left the “odd-boy” gaping. Twins were a -regrettable everyday occurrence, but eleven “bonnivs” were the gift of -Providence, and not to be lightly regarded. - -Norah made her way up the narrow street. The air was full of the -pleasant smell of newly-lit turf fires, and in the cottages the women -were beginning their day’s work. Children ran to peep over the half-door -at the stranger, and Norah, peeping over in her turn, saw fat babies -crawling about the earthen floors and made friends with them until their -mothers picked them up and brought them to the half-door for further -admiration. Thus her progress up the street was slow, and it was some -time before she came to the outskirts of the village and crossed a green -where asses, geese, fowls, and long-haired goats wandered sociably. - -Beyond the green the high road curved, and, following it, Norah came -upon a narrow river that tumbled from the hills, racing under an old -bridge of grey stone in a mass of foaming rapids. On the other side was -a little ruined castle, upon which she advanced joyfully, with the -passion for anything old which gave the Australians the keenest -enjoyment of all their experiences of travel. - -It was not much of a castle; the walls had long since collapsed into -heaps of broken stone, most of which had been carried away to build -cabins and were now concealed under the whitewash of years. A small -square tower yet stood, but was obviously unsafe, since the crumbling -stairway that wound upwards inside it had been shut off by rusty iron -bars. It was not easy to make out the outlines of what had been rooms, -for the stones had fallen in all directions, and grass and brambles grew -wildly over them. But everywhere, softening the cruelty and destruction -of time, ivy clambered; a kindly cloak of green that blotted out harsh -outlines and turned the whole into something exquisite. - -Norah crossed the bridge and climbed upon a half-fallen wall, perching -herself on a huge flat stone that lay bathed in sunshine. Above her the -jackdaws which nested in the ivy-covered tower chattered and scolded, -flying in and out to their homes; below was no sound save the hurried -babble of the river, where now and then came the flash of a leaping -trout. It was very peaceful. She tried to “reconstruct” it in the way -they loved, seeing again the old days when the castle stood proudly, and -chieftains and fair ladies, richly clad, moved about the rooms and -looked through the narrow window slits at the river, running just as it -ran to-day. It was a fascinating employment; so that she did not hear a -light step, until a falling stone brought her back to the present with a -jump. - -“Did I startle you?” Sir John asked, looking up at her. “They told me -you had gone out, and I guessed that if you weren’t somewhere playing -with a baby you would have found the ruin!” - -“The babies and the ruin are both lovely,” Norah said, smiling. “I’m -taking them in turn.” - -“Did you sleep well?” Sir John asked, climbing up to the wall, and -lighting a cigarette. - -“Oh, yes, thanks; only the morning was too nice to stay in bed. I had -such a funny little room, all nooks and corners.” - -“_I_ had a feather bed!” said Sir John, with a wry face. “Awful things; -I don’t know how people ever slept on them. It was very huge and puffy, -and I sank down into its depths, and felt as if the waters were closing -over my head. Then I dreamed wild dreams of battle. Altogether, I feel -as if I had an adventurous night.” - -“I read once of an old woman who slept on a turkey-feather bed for -twenty years, until at last all the feathers stuck together in a solid -mass like a mat, and he had a sealskin coat made out of it!” said Norah. - -“I’d love to believe it, but it beats any fishing-yarn I ever heard,” -said Sir John, regarding her fixedly. “Do you believe it yourself?” - -“I don’t know anything about the ways of featherbeds,” Norah said, -laughing. “But I always thought she must have been an unpleasant old -lady, for it showed clearly that she hadn’t shaken up her mattress for -twenty years. Oh, Sir John, did you find a bathroom?” - -“I did not; there isn’t one. I’m sorry, Norah. We ought to have better -luck at our stopping-place to-night.” - -“I suppose one can’t expect baths everywhere,” Norah said. “The queer -part to us is being charged extra for one’s tub; no hotel in Australia -ever does anything so ungracious. They rather encourage one to take -baths there.” - -“It’s a ridiculous charge, especially where a water-supply is no -trouble,” O’Neill answered. “Did I ever tell you the story of a friend -of mine who was staying in a very old-fashioned country-house, where his -early cup of tea was brought in by a very old butler? My friend asked -for a bath, and was told there was no hot water available—‘the pipes -have froze on us,’ said the butler, sadly. Next day it was the same; but -the third morning the butler came in with triumph in his eye. - -“‘Sure, the bath will be all right this morning, sir,’ he said, -confidentially. ‘I have the hot wather beyant.’ - -“He went out, and returned panting under an enormous bath of the flat -tin-saucer variety, which he put down with pride, while my friend—who -happened to be as big as your father—watched him, much thrilled. Next -he laid down a smart bath-mat, and hung over a chair a bath-towel as -large as a sheet. Finally, he went out, and brought back a very small -can of hot water, which he poured very carefully into the bath; as my -friend said, it made a thin film of wet on its great flat surface. The -old butler straightened up, beaming. - -“‘Now, sir,’ he said, proudly—‘ye can have your little dive!’” - -Norah’s shout of laughter was echoed by Wally and Jim, whose heads -suddenly appeared over the ivy-covered wall. - -“I don’t see why you retire to ruins to tell your best stories, -O’Neill,” Jim said. “Also, we feel that it’s breakfast-time, and we’ve -been scouring the country for you both.” - -“I begin to feel that way myself,” Norah said, jumping down. - -Mr. Linton was smoking in front of the hotel. In the dining-room, the -“odd-boy,” again thinly disguised for the moment as a waiter, hovered -about their table for orders, a procedure which seemed superfluous, -since the possibilities of the house did not exceed the inevitable bacon -and eggs. No one, however, was disposed to quarrel with the meal; and -very soon after, they were again on the road, leaving the friendly -little village by a winding highway that soon brought them within sight -and sound of the sea—one of the deep inlets that thrust themselves far -into the wild northern coast of Ireland. The road led, now close to the -shore, now striking across country to find a short cut over the neck of -a peninsula. They skirted little bays where a golden beach gleamed -invitingly, and ran out on rocky headlands, on which the sullen sea -thundered. Inland, the country grew more and more lonely and desolate. - -“How on earth do these people get a living?” Jim ejaculated, looking at -the wretched cabins in a tumbledown village. “The soil is nearly all -stone—and how horribly bleak it must be in winter! This is July, and -still the wind is wild enough.” - -“I don’t think they get much of a living at all,” Sir John said. -“Fishing helps, of course; and all the able-bodied men hire themselves -out for the harvesting to Scotch and English farmers, and bring home -what seems a big sum in these parts, together with stories of the wealth -across the water: - - “The people that’s in England is richer nor the Jews— - There’s not the smallest young gossoon but thravels in his shoes!” - -“Indeed, they don’t do that here,” said Mr. Linton, looking at the -ragged boy by the wayside. - -“Not they—shoes only come with years of discretion, and often, not -then. But don’t they look rosy and well?—nothing of the pinched look of -the youngsters in a city slum.” - -“No—I think the air must be nourishing!” remarked Wally. - -“You’re quite right; it is. But they grow little crops, in tiny corners -between the stones. The soil is bad enough; they are lucky if they are -near the sea, for then they can bring up mussels and kelp as manure. -There’s a woman bringing some now”; and Sir John pointed to a bent -figure, bare-legged, a red shawl over head, and on her back a huge -basket, beneath which she was labouring up a steep cliff-path. “She has -a kish full of shell-fish there—you wouldn’t find it a light load, even -on the level, but they carry hundreds of them up these cliffs. There are -parts of Donegal so bleak that they have to warm the ground before -sowing the seed; they burn the dried sea-weed on the prepared soil, and -sow the crop while the ashes are still smoking.” - -“Great Scott!” said Jim, feebly. “Fancy an Australian doing that!” - -Sir John laughed grimly. - -“I fancy an Australian would flee in horror if he were offered as a gift -a tract of land that supports hundreds of these people,” he said. “You -should see them reaping their tiny, pocket-handkerchief crops; they do -it with a little reaping-hook, and, upon my word, some of them are so -small that you might harvest them with a pair of scissors! Of course -they’re not worth much; but then these people are accustomed to live on -very little, and they scarcely need more than they have, if the sea is -kind and the fishing fair. They look wild enough; but they are -intelligent, even if ignorant, and you will always meet with courtesy -among them.” - -“They would make great fighting men,” Jim observed, watching a -broad-shouldered, dark-faced young fellow who was digging in a tiny -field by the road. He had paused to look at the motor, one foot on the -spade, and his splendid young body upright. - -“Oh, every sound Irishman is that naturally,” Sir John said, with a -laugh. “And the women could do their bit if occasion arose. Did you -hear, by the way, of the women of Limerick, when some of the disaffected -idiots of whom there are too many in the country made a pro-German -demonstration there lately? They chose a day when most of the loyal men -of the city were away; these fellows were from Dublin, and they made a -procession and planned quite a little show. But they reckoned without -the women.” - -“What—did they take a hand?” asked Mr. Linton. - -“They did, indeed, with sticks and stones and whatever other missiles -came handy. It was most effective: they broke up the procession -completely, and the gallant rebels had to be rescued by the police. The -women had a great day. I asked one why they didn’t leave the matter -entirely to the police, and she looked at me in scorn and asked why -would they accommodate themselves with the ignorance of policemen? And -indeed, I didn’t know. After all, some things are managed much better -without the law.” - -The road had for some time been leading away from the sea, and now began -to climb up a steep cutting, between rock-walls fringed with ferns and -mosses. On the hills above them a few goats browsed, their kids cutting -capers among the boulders, with complete enjoyment of the game. They -mounted steadily for awhile; then, topping the rise, began to glide -downwards. The road turned and twisted as they neared the level ground, -following the course of a little stream that came rushing from some -unseen source. Sir John, who was driving, sounded his horn steadily. - -“There are not many people on these roads,” he said, over his shoulder. -“But it doesn’t do to take risks with the country folk.” - -“No. Still, I never saw a more desolate road, so far as traffic goes,” -Mr. Linton answered. “We have not seen a soul for miles on it.” - -“I don’t think there _is_ a soul on it,” said Sir John, laughing. - -The motor swung round a corner, with a prolonged hoot; and there, so -close that the bonnet of the car seemed almost to be touching the ass’s -nose, came an old woman, nodding sleepily in a cart. There was no time -to stop, and no room to turn. The ass planted all four feet stubbornly, -stopping dead, and they heard a faint cry from the shawled old figure. - -“Sit tight,” said O’Neill between his teeth. - -The brake jammed hard on as he spoke; they had been running down-hill -slowly, with the power shut off. The ass backed indignantly; and the -great motor swerved to one side, where there was a little more room in -the cutting, bumped heavily over dry channels worn by the winter rains, -and rammed her bonnet gently into the rock wall. The occupants of the -tonneau found themselves in a heap on the floor. The car throbbed to -silence, and the old woman in the ass-cart said, “God help us!” loudly. - -“Well, indeed, He did,” said O’Neill, under his breath. “Are you all -right, all of you?” - -“We’re mixed, but undamaged,” Jim answered. “What about you, O’Neill?” - -“I’m all right. How is she, Con?” - -Con had swung himself out before the car finally stopped, and was -examining the battered bonnet dismally, finally appealing for help to -push her away from the wall. - -“In a minute,” O’Neill said. - -He walked over to the old woman, who still sat motionless on the floor -of the ass-cart, her withered face pitifully afraid. - -“Did you not hear the horn?” O’Neill asked. - -“I did, sir—but I didn’t rightly know what it was, an’ I half asleep.” -She rocked herself to and fro, wretchedly. “Oh, wirra, the great mothor! -Is it desthroyed entirely, sir?” - -“It is not—but it’s the mercy of Heaven we’re not all killed, and you -and the little ass, too. When you hear that horn, mother, get to one -side of a road quickly: and don’t be afraid to call out, if it happens -to be a narrow road.” - -“I . . . I . . .” She looked at him helplessly, her voice breaking. - -“Don’t worry—you’re all right,” he said gently. “Is it tired you are?” - -“I been sittin’ up with my son these two nights,” she said, finding -words. “Mortal ill he was, an’ the woman he married no more use than a -yalla-haired doll. An’ when they’re sick they do be wantin’ their -mothers again, like as if they’d gone back to be little boys.” Just for -a moment he caught a gleam of triumph in her dulled eyes. - -“And is he better?” - -“He is, sir, God be praised, and I’m gettin’ home to me man; there’s no -knowin’ what he’ll have done to himself, not used to bein’ alone and -all.” - -Something passed from O’Neill’s palm into the trembling, work-worn old -hand. - -“That’s to bring you luck for your son,” he said, forestalling her -protests. “Let you get home, mother, and have a meal. Wait a moment.” - -He unscrewed the cap of his flask, and made her drink out of the silver -cup, to her own great horror. - -“If I’d a tin, itself!” she protested. “But your honour’s cup!” - -“Drink it up,” said O’Neill, unmoved. He took back the cup and stood -aside; and the little ass moved on, the old woman calling down blessings -upon him, with tears finding well-accustomed furrows down her cheeks. - -“Sitting up two nights, and probably doing the work of the house during -the day, in addition to nursing; and most likely on bread and stewed -black tea!” said O’Neill, indignantly, striding back to the motor. “You -wouldn’t wonder if she went to sleep in front of the car of Juggernaut. -Poor old soul! I say, you people have been busy!” - -They had levered the heavy car back, chocking the wheels with great -stones, and the chauffeur was making explorations into her vital parts. -Sir John joined him, and they discoursed unintelligibly in technical -language. - -“Well, it might be worse, but it’s not too good,” Sir John said, at -last, emerging from the investigation and wiping his hands on a ball of -cotton-waste. “There’s no moving her without men and horses, and no -getting her going again until we get some spare parts; and they’re no -nearer than Belfast or Dublin; possibly we shall have to telegraph to -London for them.” - -“But she’s not desthroyed entirely?” Norah said, happily. - -“She is not. Hadn’t we the luck of the world that it happened where it -did, just on level ground and where there was a little room to manœuvre! -If it had been three minutes earlier, on the side of the hill, in the -narrow cutting, we should simply have gone clean over the poor old soul -and her ass. Nothing could have saved them.” - -“It might easily have been infinitely worse,” Mr. Linton said. “But I’m -sorry for the car, O’Neill.” - -“Oh, the car’s nothing,” Sir John answered, cheerfully. “I’m only sorry -for the interruption to our trip. However, things might be more -uncomfortable. We’re only three or four miles from Carrignarone, where I -meant to stop the night: there is quite a passable inn there, small and -homely, but it’s clean and comfortable enough. We could stay there for a -few days, while Con goes to Belfast to get what is necessary—that is, -if you like. The coast is interesting, and we might get some -sea-fishing. Of course, if you thought that too slow, we could drive to -the railway, and get back to Killard.” He looked rather wistful. “I had -hoped this was going to be such a jolly trip,” he said. - -“Why, so it is,” Jim responded. “I’m awfully sorry for the damage to the -motor, but we’re going to have plenty of fun all the same. It will be -rather good fun to be on a coast again, and we’re all keen on -sea-fishing. And you know, O’Neill, we wouldn’t make any definite plans, -so that the unexpected could take charge of us!” - -“It has certainly done that,” Sir John said, laughing. “Well, I think -the next thing is lunch: a good thing I got the hotel to put us up -something, though it will probably be only hard-boiled eggs.” - -It _was_ hard-boiled eggs, and they ate them merrily, sitting on the -bank of the little stream, where lichen-covered boulders, smooth and -weather-worn, made convenient seats. - -“I am perfectly certain,” Mr. Linton said, “that if I were in London and -ate an enormous meal of soda-bread, eggs like bullets, and very black -tea out of a Thermos, I should have dyspepsia. Not that I ever had it; -but the mixture sounds dyspeptic when you couple it with London. But -sitting on the bank of a Donegal river it seems quite the proper thing, -and I shall be very well after it.” - -“No one could be anything but well in Donegal,” Wally said, decisively. -“Whew-w, Jim! think of the trenches, in a fortnight!” - -“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” said Jim, lighting his pipe. “I -want my little hit-back at Brer Boche, but I’d much rather it was in the -open: there’s no romance in war when you carry it on in an -over-populated ditch.” - -“Lucky young animals!” said Sir John, openly envious—and the boys -flushed a little. As a rule, they were careful not to talk of the Front -in the presence of the man whose whole soul longed to be out there with -them. “But you’ll all come back, won’t you? and Mr. Linton, when the war -is over, or when these ancient campaigners next get leave, you will -bring them back to Rathcullen? I want to know that that is a settled -thing.” - -“That is a matter which I don’t need to put to the committee,” Mr. -Linton replied, looking at the cheery faces. “We’ll certainly come, -O’Neill, since you are so good. And then, when we pack up finally for -Australia and Billabong, what about you? You know it’s high time you -visited that little country of ours.” - -“He’s coming with us,” said Norah, with decision. “Say you are, Sir -John—please!” - -“Well, indeed, I begin to think I am,” O’Neill answered. “I was getting -terribly old when you invaded Donegal, but now I believe I shall soon be -nearly as young as Mr. Linton! At any rate, I might follow you out.” But -the boys protested, arguing that there was no point in travelling alone -when they might make a family party. - -“It would be miles jollier,” said Wally. “Then we could ‘personally -conduct’ you to Billabong, and you would have the unforgettable -experience of seeing Brownie go mad. I’m quite certain she and Murty -will be delirious on the day that Norah comes marching home again!” So -they planned happily, in gay defiance of the guns thundering across the -Channel. That sullen menace was only a fortnight ahead, and already -Norah dreamed of it at night. But in the daytime it was better to -pretend that it did not exist. - -Con was left with the motor, to administer what “first-aid” was -possible: and after lunch the rest of the party set off along the road -to Carrignarone, which was reached after an easy walk of an hour and a -half. It was a little fishing-village, boasting a better inn than others -of its type, since in normal years the sport to be obtained brought a -small harvest of visitors. War, however, had meant lean times—wherefore -the people of the inn fell thankfully on the windfall afforded them by a -stranded party of six, and ran three ways at once in preparing for their -comfort. A cart, with a couple of strong horses, was forthcoming, and -under the charge of Jim and Wally, set off to the rescue of the -motor—which was eventually towed into the village, where it caused what -the war-reports term “a certain liveliness.” At the steering-wheel sat -Con, a picture of humiliation—deepening to disgust when the carter -politely offered him a whip! - -“Them machines do be all very well to play with, for genthry an’ for -them that have too much money,” said the carter, drawing a distinction -that was not lost on his hearers. “But ’tis mighty glad they are of the -ould horses when annything goes wrong with the works!” Which was so -obviously true at the moment that no one had any spirit to contradict -him. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - THE CAVE AMONG THE ROCKS - - - “The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storming on their way, - Shining green and silver with the hidden herring-shoal; - But the Little Waves of Breffny have drenched my heart in spray - And the Little Waves of Breffny go stumbling through my soul.” - EVA GORE-BOOTH. - -WALLY ran out upon a point of rock that ended abruptly in a sheer face, -under which the outgoing tide ran swiftly, deep and green. For a moment -he stood motionless, his slim body gleaming white against sea and rock; -then he curved forward and shot into the water in a clean dive that made -scarcely any splash. He reappeared, shaking the water from his eyes, his -brown face glowing. - -“Coo-ee, Jim! Come on—it’s ripping!” - -Jim appeared from a cave, shedding the last of his raiment. There was no -pause in his dive; his swift rush along the point ended in a leap that -carried him far out, and when he emerged, strong over-arm strokes -carried him quickly in towards a tiny bay where hard yellow sand made a -perfect landing-place. Wally gave chase, unavailingly: when his feet -touched the shore Jim was already racing again along the rocks, his dive -this time beginning with a complete somersault in the air, before, with -a mighty splash, he disappeared once more. Wally came hard upon his -heels, springing in, in a sitting position, his hands locked under his -knees; and for the next twenty minutes the chums sported in the water -like a couple of seals, racing, playing tricks upon each other, and -practising the dozen different dives taught them in schoolboy days in -Australia. Finally they rubbed themselves down with dry, warm sand, -donned their clothes, and subsided, glowing, on a sunny rock, to light -their pipes. - -“What a perfect place for a swim!” Jim said, looking at the long, narrow -inlet with its twin headlands. “That point only needs one thing, Wal—a -really good spring-board.” - -“Yes. Do you remember the big spring-board in the St. Kilda baths—the -one you broke when you were trying how high you could spring before -diving?” - -“Do I not!” said Jim ruefully. “It was the pride of the baths, and -replacing it made me a poor man for the rest of the term!” He pitched a -shell far out into the sea. “Doesn’t that seem ages ago!” - -“So it is: anything that happened before the war _is_ ages ago,” Wally -answered. “And I suppose, when we get back to Billabong, all this”—he -swept a comprehensive gesture that included Ireland and Europe—“will -seem a kind of prehistoric dream. Anyhow it’s a good dream while it -lasts.” - -“Yes, it’s all too good to have missed it,” Jim said. “Ireland has been -jolly, beyond our hopes, thanks to O’Neill—what a brick that poor chap -is! Now if we can only finish up by a bit of real fighting, it will all -be a huge lark. I’m not a scrap sorry to have been in the trenches; it -was all good experience. But I say, Wal, I do want to get going above -ground!” - -“Rather!” Wally answered. “I want to take a hand in a general worry, and -afterwards to be in it when we chase the lovely Hun back to his happy -home. And I specially want to be there when we chase ’em out of -Brussels: I’d like to see that plucky Belgian King marching down his -main street again. Won’t they howl!” - -“We’ll all howl when that day comes,” said Jim. “You know, Ireland has -been just topping, and it’s jolly to be with old dad and Norah again; -but I’m beginning to think it’s about time we got back to work. We’re -fit as possible now; and we didn’t sign on to play about. This sort of -thing”—he touched his rough tweed clothes—“was all very well when we -were crocks. But we aren’t crocks now. I think, of course, that it was -only common sense to get quite fit; they don’t want half-cured people -over yonder. Still——” - -“Still, being cured, it’s time we dug out our khaki again,” Wally said, -nodding. “I quite agree: one would begin to feel a shirker if one stayed -much longer. And Australians haven’t shown themselves shirkers in this -war.” - -“No. It’s funny, you know,” Jim reflected. “I did hate the trenches—the -filth, and the flies, and the smells, and the vermin; and I used to -wonder if I was a tin-soldier, and had no business to have come at all, -because lots of chaps say they love it, no matter what the conditions -are. Well, I didn’t love it; I’d sooner have driven bullocks, any day.” - -“Same here,” said Wally. - -“It used to buck me that you felt the same,” Jim said, “because of -course I knew you weren’t any tin-soldier, and the other fellows used to -say how keen you were, and that you’d get on well.” - -“But they said just the same to me about you, you old ass!” said Wally -laughing. “Who got a special pat on the back at the last inspection, I’d -like to know?” - -“Oh, that was only luck,” said Jim, much embarrassed. “Bit of eye-wash -for the C.O. Anyway, I used to worry for fear I wasn’t any good at the -game; and it worried me that I was so awfully glad to come away, after -they gassed us. But lately, I’ve been a bit bucked, because I’m getting -no end keen to be back. We’ll hate it again, I’m certain. But one has -got to see the job through. You feel it too, don’t you?” - -“’M,” nodded Wally. “I suppose it’s just the beastliness one hates, but -one likes one’s job.” - -“I expect so. I used to get horribly annoyed with young Wilson, in my -platoon, but I’d like uncommonly to know how the little beggar is -shaping now, and who has the handling of him. He’s a queer-tempered, -obstinate, cross-grained varmint, but he’ll do anything for you if you -treat him like a human being. Only you can’t drive him. I hope we’ll get -our old crowds back—though I’m afraid it’s rather too much to hope -for.” - -“I’m afraid so,” Wally agreed. “My corporal was a dear old thing; only -he would persist periodically in forgetting that I was grown-up. I don’t -blame them—the old N.C.O.’s know ever so much more than we do. That -chap had been all over the world, and seen no end of service; he’d have -had a commission if he could have kept off beer. It was when he was -drunk that he used to think I was his small boy. I had my own troubles -with him”—and Wally grinned reminiscently. - -“They were such a good lot of fellows,” Jim said. “Oh, it will be pretty -good to get back; and to see Anstruther and Garrett and Blake, and all -the crowd again, and make them fight their battles over for us. It’s one -of the annoying parts about our dose of gas that I haven’t the slightest -recollection of our own little scrap. I used to remember the beginning; -but now my only memory is of you sitting on a biscuit-tin eating bully, -and I’m sure that happened before the fun began. I wonder if the other -fellows will have much to talk about?” - -“Well, _we_ won’t, anyhow,” Wally said. “Ireland isn’t the place for -adventures. Let’s hope we may get some good specimens of our own in -Flanders—and in Germany—and then we needn’t envy any of ’em.” - -“Rather!” assented Jim. “I say, suppose we move on—the sun isn’t as hot -as it was, or I’m colder than I was; and anyhow, we may as well -explore.” He sprang up, followed by his chum, and they strolled across -the rocks. - -The party had been at Carrignarone for three days, and there was, as -yet, no word from Con, who had departed on an outside car, _en route_ to -Belfast, to obtain what was necessary to restore the motor to health. -Not that anyone minded the delay. The little inn was clean and -well-kept; the sea-fishing was good, and the bathing perfect; while the -shore, with its alternating strand and rock, was a never-failing -fascination. Wally and Jim had made friends with an old fisherman, who -had taken them out with him very early that morning; and luck had been -so good that they had come in some hours earlier than they were -expected, so that the big haul they brought could be taken to the -railway and landed in Dublin in time for the next morning’s market. At -the inn, they found that Sir John, Norah, and Mr. Linton had gone out, -leaving no word of their movements; so the boys, after an enormous -lunch, had departed to explore the shore farther than their previous -walks had led them, until the long narrow inlet had tempted them to -bathe. - -They strolled round the beach from the point where they had dived, now -and then picking up a curious shell or some sea-treasure that might be -included in the parcels that went periodically to Billabong, where -Brownie would have cherished the veriest rubbish if only her nurslings -had gathered it for her. The tide was almost out, and at the farther -headland the rocks lay uncovered for a long way, full of alluring -rock-pools, gleaming with sea-anemones. It was impossible to round the -point, however, for it was higher than the other headland, and the water -roared at its base, even at low tide; so they strolled back across the -rocks, looking for the nearest place where it would be possible to climb -up and cross the point. - -The crags above them grew more accessible presently, and they scrambled -up, slipping and clambering until they found themselves on a jutting -rock with a wide flat surface, which, bathed in sunshine, invited them -to stop and rest. Loose fragments of rock lay about the flat top, and -Wally perched on one, but rose hastily. - -“That thing wriggled under me,” he said, “It’s just on the balance: I -believe I could push it over.” - -“‘That Master Wally have the mischieviousness of ten boys,’ as Brownie -used to say,” Jim remarked, lazily. “Sit down, and don’t play tricks -with the landscape.” - -“It would be considerably like hard work, so I don’t think I will,” said -Wally, sitting down on another fragment. “This old table of a rock wants -tidying up, I think—did you ever see so many loose chunks scattered -about?” - -“I expect a bit of the cliff fell on it from above, and flew into bits,” -said Jim. “Anyhow, it’s warm and jolly. What’s that?” - -Something tinkled on the rock, and Wally uttered a sharp exclamation of -annoyance. - -“Botheration! That’s my knife.” - -“Hard luck!” said Jim, looking at a cleft in the surface, down which the -knife had vanished. “Never mind; I’ve got two with me, and you can have -one.” - -“Thanks, but I don’t want to lose that fellow,” Wally said, vexedly. -“It’s that extra-special knife Norah gave me when I was going out—the -big one she called ‘the lethal weapon.’ It’s full of all sorts of -dodges. I’d sooner lose a lot of odd things than that knife.” - -He lay flat, and put his eye to the cleft in the rock, peering -downwards. - -“Afraid it’s gone for good, old man,” Jim said. “It’s hard luck—but -Norah will understand. She’ll probably jump at the chance of giving you -another.” - -“I want this one,” said Wally, his voice slightly muffled. He peered -harder. “I say, Jim, I can see daylight down here.” - -“I don’t see how you can,” Jim said, leaning over in his turn. “This old -rock seems pretty solid. Let’s look.” He applied his eye to the cleft, -in his turn. - -“Well, there is light,” he said presently, sitting up. “I wonder if -there’s some opening below, Wal?” - -“Don’t know, but I’m going to see,” Wally answered. He swung himself -over the edge of the flat rock and climbed down, followed by his chum. -They hunted about the great pile, seeking for some opening that might -explain the glimmer of daylight that had greeted them above. - -On one side of the mass was the long stretch of rock from which they had -first climbed up; but on the other they found smooth hard sand, only -lately under water. There were openings here and there among the -boulders, but they led to nothing, and had no communication with the -upper air; they explored them in turn, but found no solution of the -problem. Then, as Wally was backing out on hands and knees from one of -these false scents, he heard a low whistle from Jim, and hurried round a -boulder, to find him regarding what looked like a slit, about three feet -high, between two masses of rock. - -“There’s some sort of a cave in there,” Jim said. “I’ve been in a little -way, and it looks rather interesting, so I came back for you. There’s -light far above one’s head; I believe we’ll find your knife there.” - -They crawled into the narrow passage. Almost immediately it turned, so -sharply that a casual searcher might easily have been misled into -thinking it ended: and then it widened and they found themselves in a -long, narrow cave. They could see no roof; but far above, a faint bar of -light glimmered, and made it possible to see where they were going. -Underfoot was hard sand. The walls were dripping with wet and encrusted -with seaweeds and limpets. - -“This is a real sea-cave,” Wally said cheerfully. - -An echo took his voice and went muttering round the rocks, the mutter -rising at length almost to a cry. It was an eerie sound, in the wet dusk -of the cave, with the dark smell of a submerged place in their nostrils; -and the boys jumped. - -“I guess this isn’t a place to raise one’s voice in,” Wally said, -dropping his to a whisper. “That’s a nice, tame echo; I’d like to take -it back to Billabong!” - -“Would you!” uttered Jim, with feeling. “The blacks would say it was the -Bunyip come back; and anyhow, you’d get into trouble for bringing out a -prohibited immigrant.” He made a quick pounce on an object that -glittered faintly on the sand. “There’s your knife, old man!” - -“Bless you!” said Wally, thankfully receiving his property. “I say, what -luck! and haven’t you the eye of a hawk?” - -“Why, I kicked it,” said Jim. “A good thing it’s so big: I always -thought Norah gave it to you with the idea that you might club a few -Germans with it, if you got the chance—and scalp ’em afterwards. Get -out!—” as Wally tipped his cap off. “Remember that you’re in a -subterranean locality, and behave as such. Hark at that echo!” - -He had raised his voice, unwittingly, and the echo had sent it shrieking -round the cave. It was quite a relief when the sound died away to a low -murmur. - -“I’m not at all sure that it isn’t the Bunyip, an’ he livin’ here at his -aise, as Con would say,” Wally muttered. “Come on; we’ll see how far -this place goes.” - -The light grew dimmer as they moved on, away from the crack overhead. -Fortunately, Jim was never to be found without a tiny electric torch in -his pocket, and its little beam of light was sufficiently to guide them. -But for the torch their explorations would certainly have come to an end -immediately, for it was not half a minute before they found themselves -against a wall that apparently ended the cave. - -“Well, it isn’t much of a cavern, after all,” Jim remarked. “Not bad as -a dressing-room for Norah, if she wants to bathe from this -beach—there’s clear sand right down to the water from the entrance in -one place. She will have to come at low tide, though.” - -He flashed his torch into the comers as they turned to retrace their -steps. One was plainly nothing but solid wall: but in the other -something caught his eye; a darker patch of shadow that was not quite -like the rock. - -“Why, I believe there’s an opening in that corner,” he said. “It must be -another cave, communicating with this one. Come and see.” - -The opening was only wide enough to admit one at a time, and so screened -by a jutting boulder that it was almost invisible. Within was a cave -very like the first one, though much larger; differing from it, too, in -that the sand ended, and the floor was of fairly smooth rock, which, in -the middle, held a great pool of water. This time there was no doubt -that they were at the end of their subterranean journey; Jim flashed the -light right round the wall, but there was no break in the solid rock, -glistening with wet. - -“Well, that’s the finish,” Wally said. “It isn’t a wildly exciting -place, except for that demoniacal echo. We’ll bring Norah and the others -here and make it talk. I’d like to hear what its little efforts would be -like if one gave a football yell!” - -“Something would break,” said Jim, suppressing a laugh. He strolled -across to the pool, and turned the light on its black surface. - -“That is a deep and mysterious and probably, haunted water-hole and -you’d better be careful,” said Wally in a sepulchral whisper. “Most -likely the Bunyip lives there, and in a moment we shall see his grisly -head emerge from the unfathomed depths, and then all will be over with -two promising young officers of His Majesty’s Army.” He paused for -breath. - -“Idiot!” said Jim, pleasantly. “I wonder if it’s deep. Lend me your -stick, Wal.” - -He leaned over the pool and thrust the stick into its depths. It went in -for its full length. Then came a sound which made the boys look at each -other in bewilderment. - -“It sounds as if the Bunyip had been chucking his old tins in,” Wally -said. - -“It’s tin, I’ll swear,” Jim answered. “And solid at that; I can’t move -it.” - -He took off his coat, rolled his shirt-sleeve to the shoulder, and -recommenced investigations. It was easy enough to feel the stick -scraping on tin; beyond that, he could make out nothing, save that there -was plenty of tin to scrape. Jim desisted at length, and stood -pondering. - -“I think this is pretty queer,” he said, presently. “Wonder if we’ve -stumbled on a smuggler’s cave, Wal. Look here, I’m going to paddle.” - -“Well, you don’t know the depth of that beastly place,” Wally said. “For -all we know it may be miles deep.” - -“Well, can’t I swim?” Jim queried in amazement. - -“Yes, a little. Anyhow, I’m coming, too.” - -Jim laughed softly. - -“I thought that was it,” he said. “Look here—you stay at the edge with -the light, and I’ll hold one end of the stick, and you can hang on to -the other. That will make it all right. There’s no sense in out both -paddling in.” - -Wally assented, more or less reluctantly; and Jim took off his boots and -stockings and rolled his trouser-legs high. Then, he stepped carefully -into the black pool. - -“By Jove, it’s cold!” he said. - -“What’s the bottom like?” - -“Fairly smooth.” He moved on, becoming less cautious. Then he uttered an -exclamation. - -“What’s up?” came from Wally. - -“I’ve stubbed my silly toe against something—my own fault.” Jim -answered. “Why, it’s another tin!” - -He stooped, feeling in the water. Presently he let go of the stick, and -plunged both hands in: and in a moment turned, carrying something that -was evidently heavy. He put it on the rock at the edge of the pool, and -stepped out of the water. Wally flashed the light on the treasure-trove, -and then whistled softly. - -“Petrol!” - -Jim nodded. - -“The pool is full of it, I believe: I felt lots of other tins.” He -turned the big square can over and over, finding no mark upon it. “H’m. -Now I’m going to put it back.” - -“Why are you in such a hurry?” - -“Because I don’t know whom we have to deal with,” Jim said. He waded in -again and replaced the heavy tin, returning quickly, and picking up his -boots and stockings. - -“Slip out and reconnoitre, carefully,” he said. “Take care that you -aren’t seen. Find out if anyone is in sight.” - -Wally returned in a few minutes. - -“Not a soul,” he reported. “And there’s not a footmark visible on the -sand, except our own.” - -“That’s good, anyhow,” Jim said. “We’ll get out of this.” - -He led the way out, not speaking until they were clear of the rocks near -the cave. Then he sat down, and for the first time the two boys looked -at each other. Their faces were grave. - -“It’s submarines, of course?” Wally asked. “Germans?” - -“Couldn’t be anything else. And what a depôt! Look at this inlet—shut -in by the headlands, with a perfect sandy bottom: a submarine could come -in here and lie in complete safety, and no one would ever dream of -looking for her. The cave is not five minutes from the water’s edge, -even at low tide—of course, no one could get in to it at all unless the -tide were right out: when it is in there’s a foot of water over the -entrance.” - -“Yes—and at low tide the sand is as hard as iron,” Wally said, -excitedly. “They could fill their collapsible boat with petrol tins in -ten minutes with two or three men to fish them out of the water and a -few more to carry them down. Oh, Jimmy, we’ve got to bag them!” - -“Rather!” Jim answered. “The question is, how?” - -He thought deeply. - -“We must be awfully careful,” he said, at last. - -“It’s much too big and important for us to mess up by trying to keep it -to ourselves. But there isn’t a policeman in the district, and if there -were, he might mess it up as badly as ourselves. We’ve got to get a -patrol-boat round to the inlet somehow; you know they’re all round the -coast, and it wouldn’t take long to bring one here. But one doesn’t know -whom to trust. The Germans may be getting help from on shore, for all we -can tell.” - -“Of course they may,” Wally cried. “People say there are plenty of -pro-Germans about; and they’d pay well enough to tempt these peasantry. -But all the people we’ve talked to in Carrignarone seem just as keen as -we are about the war. I don’t believe they’re in it.” - -“Neither do I, but it’s hard to tell,” Jim answered. “Oh, it’s -maddening!—the brutes may come in to-night, for all we know! We can -telegraph to the nearest coastguard station, of course, or wherever one -can catch a patrol-boat—there are some sort of instructions about -submarines and aeroplanes posted up in every post-office. But she might -not be in time.” - -“I suppose we can trust the postmistress?” - -“If we can’t, we’re done,” Jim said. “If only the motor were all right -we needn’t trust anyone. Isn’t it simply sickening to think we may do -the wrong thing altogether? And if we make a mistake, and the submarine -gets away with a fresh supply of petrol, she may sink half a dozen -_Lusitanias_ before she is caught!” - -“We’ve just got to get her,” Wally said, between his teeth. “It seems to -me there’s only one thing to do: we must telegraph for the patrol-boat, -and, meanwhile, watch every night at low tide. It’s a comfort that they -can’t get into the cave at any other time, isn’t it? I say, Jim, your -father said we were kids to bring our revolvers with us—but isn’t it a -mercy we did!” - -“Rather!” Jim said. The revolvers had been new toys; they had not felt -able to part from them. “And O’Neill has one, too—you remember, he said -we might have some shooting-practice in these lonely parts and teach -Norah how to use one.” He became silent, suddenly, and Wally, watching -his thoughtful face, did not interrupt him. After a while he spoke, -half-apologetically. - -“I say, Wal, old chap.” - -“Yes?” - -“Look here,” Jim said. “It’s your show as much as mine, of course, and I -won’t do anything to which you don’t agree. But——” he stopped again. - -“Oh, do go on!” said Wally. “Say it!” - -“Well, it’s just this. We’ll get lots of shows later on, if we’ve any -luck: not so important as this, perhaps, but still, there ought to be -chances. Anyhow, we’re able to go out to the Front and do our bit. And -that poor chap isn’t.” - -“O’Neill?” Wally said. “No.” - -“Well—do you see what I mean?” - -“It takes brains,” said Wally, laughing. “But I think I do. You want to -make this his show?” - -Jim nodded. - -“It wouldn’t hurt us,” he said. “He is such a brick, and he’s eating his -heart out over the whole thing. It’s just the toughest sort of luck—and -here he is, knocking about with us and giving us a ripping time, and -you’d think that every time he looks at us it must remind him of what he -wants to have and can’t. And now here’s a thing he could be right in.” - -“Rather!” Wally said. “I’m jolly glad you thought of it, old man. And it -isn’t any beautiful sacrifice on our parts, either, for he has tons more -brains than we have, and he’s a first-class shot. Let’s get him to run -it altogether, and we’ll be his subalterns.” - -Jim sighed with relief. - -“It seemed a bit hard to ask you to give up the credit,” he said. - -“And what about you?” grinned Wally - -“Oh, credit be hanged!” said Jim, laughing. “Anyhow, we’ll get all the -fun!” - - - - -[Illustration: “Wally flashed the light on the treasure-trove, and then -whistled softly.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page_ 225 - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - A FAMILY MATTER - - - “To count the life of battle good, - And clear the land that gave you birth, - And dearer yet the brotherhood - That binds the brave of all the earth.” - HENRY NEWBOLT. - -JOHN O’NEILL was dressing for dinner: an operation which consisted in -putting on a clean soft collar and brushing his hair, since the -travellers’ possibilities of toilet were limited to one small kit-bag -apiece. To him there came a discreet knock on the door; and Wally and -Jim, suitably apologetic, appeared. - -“You look like conspirators,” said Sir John, surveying the pair. “What’s -the matter?” - -“We’ve struck a job that’s a size too large for us,” Jim answered. “So -we’ve come meekly to you.” - -O’Neill’s short laugh was rather bitter. - -“Too large for _you_!” he said. “If that’s the case, it would be rather -an out-size for me, I should say.” His look travelled over the two tall -lads, wiry and powerful. “Unless—it isn’t money, I suppose, Jim?” - -“No, indeed; it’s brains!” Jim answered. “And we haven’t got any. -Anyhow, we don’t know how to handle this situation.” - -“Well, I’m at your disposal,” Sir John said. “Fire away—there’s plenty -of time before dinner.” - -“We’ve found a little submarine supply-depôt,” Jim said. “What does one -do?” - -O’Neill dropped his brush, and stared at him. - -“You say it much as you might say, ‘We’ve found a mushroom: how do we -cook it?’” he uttered. “It isn’t a joke, Jim?” - -“Indeed it’s not,” the boy said, quickly. “It’s because it’s so horribly -serious that we’ve come to you.” - -“But—where?” - -“In a little inlet about a couple of miles up the coast,” Jim said. -“Funny little shut-in place: you could sail past it outside and never -notice it, the headlands are so close together.” He described their -discovery briefly. - -O’Neill sat down on the side of his bed and knitted his brows. - -“Of course, the first thing is to get a patrol-boat down,” he said. “As -it happens, I know Bob Aylwin, who is in command of one of them: his -headquarters are at Port Brandon, and he could get here quite quickly.” - -“Then we must telegraph, I suppose,” Jim said. “But we were wondering if -it would be safe; things leak out so quickly in a tiny place like this, -and you know that people ashore are said to be helping the submarines in -some districts. One doesn’t like to misjudge anyone, but——” He paused, -knitting his brows. - -“One has to suspect every one,” O’Neill said, shortly. “And telegrams -are horribly public things.” - -“If only the motor were available!” Wally said, anxiously. - -“But it is!” - -They stared at him. - -“Didn’t you know Con was back? He turned up early this morning, with the -things he went for: and he and a handy man he picked up have been inside -her bonnet ever since. He came in just now to report that she is ready -to start.” - -“Oh, good business!” ejaculated Jim. “Will you send him?” - -O’Neill thought swiftly. - -“I can trust Con absolutely,” he said. “But he’s an ignorant lad, and he -is lame. Would your father go with him, do you think?” - -“He’ll do anything,” Jim said, quickly. - -“Wally, will you bring him here?” O’Neill asked. “Hurry!” He sprang to -the table and opened a touring map of Donegal. “Where’s your inlet, -Jim?” - -“Here,” Jim replied, promptly, indicating a tiny indentation on the -rugged coast-line. - -O’Neill drew a line round it with a red pencil. - -“It will be quite clear on Aylwin’s charts, of course,” he said. “This -will be sufficient guide to begin with. Now can you draw a rough plan of -the cave and the path down to the water? I’ll explain to your father.” - -Mr. Linton came hurrying in, and at Sir John’s request Wally told him -the story, illustrating it with Jim’s drawing. - -“I know the inlet,” David Linton said; “I walked past it the other day -when I was out for an early-morning stroll. Queer, land-locked corner: I -marked it down as a good bathing-place for you youngsters.” - -“That’s excellent, for you’ll be able to direct them by land, if -necessary. Now, will you go in the motor to Port Brandon, Mr. Linton? -it’s only twenty miles, and Con knows the roads. They’re not good, but -he’ll get you there quickly.” - -“I’ll do anything you like,” David Linton said. “What will you do here?” - -Sir John had taken instinctive command of the situation. For a few -moments he did not speak. - -“Aylwin must use his own judgment about coming,” he said. “He may not -want to appear here in daylight, for fear of scaring the enemy away; on -the other hand, they may be here already, lying snugly on the bottom of -the inlet, and only waiting for night and low water to get the petrol. -You say the pool was full of it, Jim?” - -“So far as I could tell. I poked with a stick from one side, and waded -in from the other. The tins are stacked in it; I don’t think they can -have taken any out.” - -“All the more likely that they will soon be in,” O’Neill said. “I knew -they had been in the north lately; the brutes nearly got one of our -transports. But if Aylwin shows up off the mouth of the inlet he may -scare them away altogether. If one knew what was best to do! We’ve got -to bag them!” His eyes were dancing. “Great Scott! what a chance it is!” - -There came a knock at the door, and Norah’s voice. - -“Is dad here?” - -The conspirators looked at each other guiltily. - -“Norah must be told,” Jim said. “She’s perfectly safe; and we can’t -carry on this without explaining to her, poor kid. May she come in, -O’Neill?” - -Sir John was already at the door. Norah, her face troubled, spoke -hurriedly. - -“I’ve been looking everywhere for dad or the boys. Are they here, Sir -John?” - -“Come in, if you don’t mind,” O’Neill said, holding the door open. He -closed it carefully behind her. “We’re having a council of war, Norah, -and——” - -Jim interrupted him, watching his sister’s face. - -“Is there anything wrong with you, Nor?” - -“There’s something I thought I’d better tell you,” Norah said. “I went -along the road just now with some sweets for those babies in the end -cottage, beyond the village; and coming back I got over the bank into -the field to get some wild flowers. Just as I was going to climb back I -heard voices, and I peeped through the hedge and saw two men—men in -rough clothes. They had been buying things in the village, for they had -parcels, and some bread that wasn’t wrapped up. So I bobbed down behind -the hedge until they had gone past—they didn’t look nice, somehow.” - -“Yes,” said Jim. “Did they see you?” - -“No, it’s a lonely bit of the road, and there are no houses. I don’t -suppose they even thought of any one being there. And, Jim, they were -talking in German!” - -“Are you sure?” - -“Perfectly. I couldn’t make out what they said, for their voices were -very low—and anyhow I never learned enough German at school to -understand it when spoken. But I do know the sound of it, and I caught -one or two words.” - -O’Neill drew a long breath. - -“If that U-boat isn’t lying on the bottom of the inlet I’ll eat my hat!” -he said. “Probably they put up a collapsible boat last night and sent -her round to some other beach—they’ll take risks to get fresh food. And -to-night she’ll paddle back and get her cargo of petrol, and the -submarine will take her on board and slide out to do a little more -pirate-work. But we may have a few remarks to make first. If I only knew -what Aylwin would want to do!” - -He sat down, and put his face in his hands. Presently he looked up. - -“Jim—is there driftwood on the shore?” - -“Lots,” said Jim, briefly. - -“That’s all right. Could we get some up on one of the headlands?” - -“Oh—easily. We were bathing off the northern point, and there’s quite -an easy way up—it isn’t nearly as high as the southern headland. Do you -mean enough for a fire?” - -“Yes. Mr. Linton, will you tell Captain Aylwin that he need not come -right in to shore. We will build a signal-fire on the northern headland, -and watch the cave at low tide—that will be about two o’clock in the -morning. If the Germans come ashore, we’ll light the fire—we can carry -up a few bottles of petrol from the motor supply to soak the drift-wood. -Aylwin can have a boat ready and come in if he sees the blaze; unless he -sees it he will know they won’t land for another twenty-four hours, for -they’ll never try it in the daytime. Is that clear?” - -“Quite. I have only to describe the place to Captain Aylwin, tell him -about the signal-fire, and accompany him if he needs me. Otherwise, I -suppose I may break the speed-limit in coming back?” - -“Of course. There’s a wireless station up there—they’ll get Aylwin for -you. If he should be away they will know where to send a message.” - -“Very well. And what will you three do?” David Linton’s eyes lingered -hungrily on his son. - -“We can only get the beacon ready, and then watch. Two of us can hide -near the cave, and the third must be up on the point to light the fire -if he hears a shot. If they come—well, we must let them land and get to -the cave; and then we must try to prevent their getting back.” - -“You will be heavily outnumbered.” - -“Yes—but the advantage of surprise will be on our side, and we can take -cover. I do not dare to get help; it may not be safe to trust anyone.” - -“Very well,” David Lint on said, quietly. “Will you order the motor, -O’Neill? I can be off in three minutes.” - -He shook hands with the boys, wishing them luck very gravely knowing -that in all probability it was the last time he should speak to them. -Jim went downstairs with him, without a word. - -Con and the motor were at the door. - -“You’ll be there by eight o’clock, with luck,” O’Neill said. “Remember, -you’re racing, Con. And——” He dropped his voice. “I’ll keep him safe -for you if I can, sir.’ - -“Thanks,” said David Linton. He shook hands with his boy again. The -motor whirred off in a cloud of dust. - -They went up the staircase in silence, to where Norah and Wally waited -for them. - -“Wally has told me all about it,” said Norah, pale, but steady-eyed. -“Oh, Sir John, I could help! Do let me.” - -“You can help by keeping out of harm’s way,” he told her, gently. - -“And you all fighting!” - -“Norah, dear, we can’t have you in it,” O’Neill said. “I know it’s hard: -far harder than anything we have to do. But you have too much sense not -to know that this isn’t woman’s work.” - -Norah choked back a sob. - -“I know you couldn’t have me where there’s shooting,” she said. “But I -can do something, if you’ll let me: and in Australia women always did -help men when there was need, and they didn’t talk about things being -‘women’s work.’ Women had to fight the blacks, too.” - -“Norah, we _can’t_ let you fight,” Jim said. “Be sensible, old kiddie.” - -“I don’t want to fight,” said poor Norah. “At least, I do, but I know -that’s out of the question. But why on earth shouldn’t I light the -beacon?” - -“Because there would be risk,” O’Neill said roughly. “Norah, I hate -hurting you. Don’t make it harder for us.” - -“I don’t want to, indeed I don’t,” Norah faltered. “But . . .” There was -a lump in her throat, and she turned away, fighting for her voice. Jim’s -arm round her shoulders steadied her. - -“You know you’ll be outnumbered,” she said. “You can’t tell any of these -people, and there are only the three of you until daddy brings help. And -one of you is going to light the beacon! If you let me do it, it leaves -you all free to fight; and there’s no risk to me. No one will be on the -point. I’d only have to light a match and get out of the way.” - -“No,” said Wally, his young voice strained. “You aren’t going to do it.” - -“I know what it will be,” Norah said. “The one of you who lights the -beacon will come tearing down the rocks to help the others, and the -Germans will just shoot him easily. I needn’t do that; I can hide up on -the point. There isn’t any risk—not a bit.” - -“Oh, Norah, Norah, I wish you’d gone to bed!” uttered Jim. “Don’t you -see we can’t let you?” - -“No, I don’t,” said his sister. “You haven’t any right to stop me. You -know it will be only a chance if you three can stop the submarine going -out if help doesn’t come in time. And if there are only two of you, it’s -so much less chance. Dad’s gone away looking dreadful, only he wouldn’t -say a word, because he knows he hasn’t any right to hinder you.” Norah -was sobbing openly now. “And you have no right to lose any chances. We -can’t let that beastly thing go out, to sink other ships full of women -and kiddies like the _Lusitania_ babies. Goodness knows I’m f-fool -enough,” said poor Norah. “But at least I can put a match to a fire!” - -“She’s quite right,” Jim said, quietly. “All serene, Nor. Buck up, old -kiddie!” - -“Jim—you can’t——!” Wally burst out. - -“I can’t agree to it,” John O’Neill said, wretchedly. - -“She’s quite right,” Jim repeated. “The job is bigger than we are. It’s -only a question, as she says, if all three of us can check those people -at the cave: and if we can get the beacon lit in any other way, we -simply have no right to reduce our number by one-third. There really -should be no danger: she has only to put a match to it, and get away -before the firelight shows her up.” He spoke firmly, but his young face -was drawn and haggard. “I am quite sure dad would say the same.” - -“I know he would,” Norah said. - -“And I thought this was rather a lark!” said Wally, with a groan. He -turned and walked to the window. - -“If you are certain your father would be satisfied, I have no more to -say,” O’Neill said. “It certainly makes an enormous difference: three -can stop a rush where two would be hopelessly outclassed. And the man -coming down from the headland wouldn’t have a chance: the people on the -submarine would get him in a minute.” - -“Remember,” said Wally sharply, turning from the window, “as soon as -your match is lit, duck, and crawl away. That old wood will flare wildly -directly it’s lit, if it’s soaked in petrol. Don’t wait a second.” - -“I won’t,” said Norah, and nodded at him cheerfully. “Don’t worry; I’ll -be all right.” - -“All right! I think it’s awful to let you do it!” Wally uttered. - -“Wally, I’ve _got_ to. Don’t you see I have?” Norah put her hand on his -arm. - -“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said. “All our lives put together don’t matter -twopence if we can put an end to even one submarine. I know we must let -you. But I wish to goodness we’d left you in Australia!” - -“Wally!” Norah flushed scarlet. - -“I say . . . I didn’t mean to be a beast,” the boy said, contritely. -“Only—I just can’t stand it!” He went out, his swift strides echoing -down the corridor. - -“Don’t mind him, little chap: he’s only worried about you,” Jim said, -gently. “He’ll be all right when he comes back.” - -“At any rate, we mustn’t have you bothered,” Sir John said, patting -Norah’s shoulder. “You’ll need to be quite calm and cool for your job, -and for getting away quietly after it. And I really don’t believe you’ll -be in any danger; the Germans can’t possibly rake that point with -gunfire from the submarine. They might hit a standing figure, but not -one lying flat. And I hope the men on shore will be too busy to take -interest in beacons.” There was a grim note in his voice, but his face -was extraordinarily happy. - -“The more I think of it,” Jim said, “the more likely it seems that we’re -here just in time. You see, they can’t get into the cave except at low -tide; and of course they want darkness. But there’s very little darkness -just now; it’s twilight until nearly ten o’clock, and then dawn comes -not long after three, or even earlier. The tide is out just before dawn: -the very best time for them to work. In a few days it would not suit -them nearly so well.” - -“Quite so,” O’Neill said. “Everything seems to point to to-night or -to-morrow. I would hope with all my heart for to-night if I were sure of -Aylwin getting here in time; for every day means more risk of their -suspecting us, especially if they are in league with any of the people -on shore. The Irish peasants are very quick to suspect a stranger.” - -“Oh, I hope it’s to-night!” Norah cried. “But, Sir John, supposing we -can—I mean, you and the boys can——” - -“Not a bit of it—it’s certainly ‘we,’” said O’Neill, laughing. - -“Well, supposing we can cut off the men who come ashore. What will the -submarine do? We can’t touch her.” - -“There’s where Aylwin comes in, of course,” O’Neill said. “If we can cut -off the shore party and keep them from rejoining the submarine, I don’t -think she can get away. She would not have much fuel, for one thing; and -for another, she does not carry enough men to spare those we may have -the luck to bag. She would probably submerge; but she can’t remain below -more than twenty-four hours; and then the destroyer would get her -easily. Of course, there is a lot of supposition about it all. I am -calculating by the little I know of submarines, but the Germans may have -a later and more powerful pattern that I don’t understand, with a larger -crew. We can only do our best. It ought to be a good fight, anyhow.” - -A knock came, and Jim opened the door. - -“The misthress is afther sending me up to say the dinner’ll be spoilt on -ye,” said a patient voice. “Them little chickens do be boiled to rags; -’tis that tender they are they’d fall asunder if you did but prod them -with your finger!” - -“We’ll hurry, Mary,” said Jim. “Come on, you people.” - -“Dinner!” said Norah. “Oh, I don’t believe I could eat any.” - -“Yes, you could,” said Wally, appearing suddenly. “Little girls who -won’t eat dinner can’t light bonfires!” He tucked her hand into his arm -and raced her down the staircase. At the foot, he stopped. - -“Norah, I’m sorry,” he said. “Is it all right?” - -“Of course it’s all right,” said Norah. “But you were never cross with -me before, in all your life, and don’t you do it again!” - -“I never got you mixed up in a war before!” said Wally soberly. “Don’t -you do it again, either!” - - - - - CHAPTER XV - PLANS OF CAMPAIGN - - - “They are fighting in the heavens: they’re at war beneath the sea— - Ay, their ways are mighty different from the ways o’ you an’ me!” - DUDLEY CLARK. - -DINNER at the Carrignarone Hotel, where the Australians and Sir John -were the only guests, was apt to be a lengthy and hilarious affair, with -everybody very hungry and very merry, and with jokes flying, much to the -disorganization of the waitress, who was wont to spend much of her time -in clapping her hand over her mouth and rushing from the room. When the -necessities of the meal forbade these hasty retreats, the waitress was -apt to explode in short, sharp gasps, greatly endangering whatever dish -she happened to be handing. - -This evening, however, the younger members of the party were inclined to -be unusually silent. Mr. Linton’s vacant seat was in itself depressing; -and since it was impossible to talk of the subject seething in their -minds, conversation of any kind was not easy. But John O’Neill was like -a child; and before long they all fell under the spell of his merriment. -Never had they seen him in such a happy mood. Every line was smoothed -from his worn face, and his eyes danced with an eager joy that was -almost uncanny. All his being seemed transformed in the complete -contentment that had possession of him. Deliberately he set himself to -make the others laugh; and succeeded so well that they astonished -themselves by making an extremely good dinner and feeling, at its -conclusion, considerably reinforced for the work that lay before them. - -O’Neill led the way out to the little landing-stage near the inn, where -the fishing-boats were anchored, their brown nets drying on rough fences -on the beach. They sat down on some upturned fish-boxes, looking -westward across the water, where the sun was preparing to set in a glory -of golden cloud. - -“Now I’m going to be sensible,” Sir John said. “I’ve been thinking out a -plan of campaign, and I want your views.” - -He brought out from his pocket a plan of the inlet, drawn by Jim—a -companion to the one Mr. Linton had carried to Captain Aylwin. - -“You have ‘Flat Rock’ marked here over the cave,” he said. “Is that the -rock you were sitting on when Wally dropped his knife?” - -“Yes, that’s the one,” Jim answered. “It has a cleft in it through which -the knife went down—just wide enough to admit the knife. It’s really a -kind of lid over the rocks that form the first cave.” - -“And you said there were loose boulders lying on it?” - -“Yes; big fragments of rock. I should think that a big chunk of the -cliff must have fallen on it once, probably splitting it and making the -crack, and breaking itself as well. A lot of it went down: the biggest -piece buried itself partly in the sand.” - -“That’s the boulder that almost hides the entrance, then?” - -Jim nodded assent. - -“It’s about three feet from the entrance and a good deal wider than it,” -he said. “There are so many similar rocks lying about that it would be -quite easy to miss the cave altogether.” - -“Then I take it that the top of the flat rock is above high-water mark?” - -“Oh, yes,” Jim answered. “High-water mark is about a foot over the top -of the entrance, and the rock is quite four feet higher than that. -Otherwise I don’t fancy the waves would have left those big pieces of -loose rock lying on it.” - -“That’s what I wanted to know. Now listen. Suppose the Germans land, and -most of them disappear into the caves, to fish for petrol. What is to -hinder two active people, armed with levers, from sending down from the -top of the rock enough boulders to block the entrance?” - -Jim started, his pipe falling from his hand. - -“By—Jove!” he uttered. “What a ripping idea!” - -“Why, we could do it as easily as possible,” Wally said, excitedly. “The -rocks are quite close to the edge: one of them is so loose that we were -rocking it this afternoon. We’ve pretty hefty muscles—we could send -half a dozen over in no time with a couple of iron bars. Glory, O’Neill, -you _have_ a head!” - -“Yes,” said Jim, his eyes dancing—“and they could hardly miss the -entrance, because the big boulder in front would prevent their rolling -out too far. What chumps we were, not to think of it, Wal!” - -“Then you’d have the Germans like rats in a trap—and with no shooting -at all!” Norah cried, delightedly. - -“Something like that: with luck,” said O’Neill. “Of course, they would -have a guard posted outside, and another at the boat. But the main crowd -would be inside, I should think.” - -“It’s really rather a staggering notion, it’s so simple,” Jim said. “And -I don’t see how it can go wrong.” - -“It certainly simplifies our plan of action,” O’Neill remarked. “And it -doesn’t beat us, even if it fails; you would have to jump down among the -boulders, in that case, and do the best you could with your revolvers as -the people inside came out—which they would do in a hurry. My own -little game must be the boat and the guard at it. It’s rather important -that it should not be allowed to get back; a submarine without a -collapsible is rather like a horse with a lame leg.” He turned his face -towards the sunset, its expression of child-like happiness stronger than -ever. “Wow! isn’t it going to be a jewel of a fight!” - -Jim laughed. - -“Aren’t you the Berserk!” he said. “But I don’t much like being -separated. You’ll be careful, O’Neill, won’t you, and keep well behind -cover? There are plenty of boulders near where they must land.” - -“Rather!” Sir John answered. “For once in my life I have a job that -matters, and I’m certainly not going to risk carrying it out by getting -shot unnecessarily. They won’t leave a strong guard at the boat: a -submarine crew is too limited to use many men, and then, so far as we -know, they feel perfectly safe, and have no reason to take extra -precautions. Speed will be their main idea; they must make the most of -the short time between low-water and daylight.” He swung round towards -Norah, smiling at her. “How are you feeling, mate?” - -“I’m feeling very cheerful,” said Norah, whose face bore out her words. -“There isn’t nearly so much danger for the boys on top of the rock, is -there, Sir John?” - -“Certainly not; if they can block the entrance from above they may not -even have to use their revolvers—which will be a sad blow to them,” -O’Neill answered. “I’m always against promiscuous shooting, especially -when there are ladies present—even to satisfy fire-eaters like Wally -and Jim!” - -“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sir John?” - -“I’ll be as right as possible,” he assured her, laughing at her anxious -face. “All I have to do is to sit comfortably behind my little rock and -pot at fat Germans; and when you hear me potting, you can light the -beacon and crawl away with discreet haste. I hope you realize that we -couldn’t carry out this plan at all if we hadn’t you as fire-lighter: we -couldn’t do without a fourth hand.” - -“I’m so glad,” Norah said, happily. “When do we start, Sir John?” - -“We’ll slip out about half-past nine,” he answered. “You and I will -stroll along in one direction, and the boys in another, and we can meet -near the northern headland where we must have the beacon. Each of us -must carry a bottle of petrol—I’ll see to getting them ready; and as we -go we can pick up stray bits of wood. There is driftwood everywhere on -the beach, and we can collect plenty beyond the inlet: I don’t want to -go there, nor do I want to show up on the north headland while there is -much light. We don’t know where the Germans you saw this evening may be -hiding—though I would think, judging from the direction in which they -were going, that their boat must be hidden in a tiny bay that lies south -of the inlet. Still, it doesn’t do to risk things.” - -“I suppose,” said Wally, “those fellows with the boat will stay wherever -they are hiding until nearly low-water; then they’ll pull round to the -inlet, and the submarine will bob up, and they’ll take the other men on -board and go ashore after the petrol.” - -“That’s the most likely thing,” O’Neill said. “We must be in position -long before that. A good thing it’s a warm night: still, we shall have -to lie still for a good while, and you’d better dress warmly, all of -you.” He looked at his watch. “Nine o’clock, and time we began to get -ready. There are crowbars in the old shed Con used as a garage, boys; I -noticed them this morning. I’m going after bottles for the petrol.” - -He stood up, looking at the three young faces. They were all eager; but -it was as though a living light glowed in his own dark eyes. He held his -gallant head high, the twisted body forgotten. - -“I’d like to say ‘Thank you,’ only I don’t know how,” he said. “If you -hadn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened; and now, whatever comes, I’ll -always have it to remember that just once in my life I had a chance of a -man’s job.” His light stride carried him quickly across the beach. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE FIGHT IN THE DAWN - - - “The fighting man shall from the sun - Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth; - Speed with the light-foot winds to run. - And with the trees to newer birth; - And find, when fighting shall be done, - Great rest, and fulness after dearth.” - JULIAN GRENFELL. - -IN the little inlet, shadowed by the high rocks, everything was very -quiet. The tide was running out rapidly: foot by foot the smooth -boulders came out of the sea, to stand like sentinels until once more -the heaving green water should swing back and climb gently until it -rippled over their heads. Inch by inch the opening grew, forming the -entrance to the cave under the rocks, and the water slid out as though -rejoicing to escape from its dark prison within and to seek the laughing -freedom of the sea that tumbled beyond the headlands. Overhead a -half-moon sailed, now and then blotted out by drifting clouds; and in -the East was the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn. But the water of -the little bay lay black and formless, and though the sands showed, -visible and pale, the shadows that lay about the great boulders were -like pools of ink. - -On the flat rock over the cave Jim and Wally crouched, now and then -moving cautiously to keep their tired limbs from stiffening. It was very -cold, in the silent hour before dawn. Two hours earlier they had climbed -down from above, making use of the scant moonlight or clinging like -limpets to the cliff when the clouds blotted out the moon’s faint -radiance: glad to arrive at their destination with nothing worse than -bruises and torn clothes. - -Once on the rock, they had set about their preparations: crawling all -over it, making sure of knowing every inch in the dark, and becoming -acquainted with each boulder that lay upon its surface. They tested them -with their crowbars in the darkness, and found it possible to move all -but two or three. The great fragment that balanced near the edge they -levered nearer still, so that only a little effort would be needed to -send it crashing down; and then they moved others near it, working with -caution that was almost painful, lest even a scratch of rock on rock -should carry a warning across the dark water. Below them, the waves had -at first rippled and splashed against the crags; but gradually they -receded, and leaning over, lying flat on the stone, they could make out -the position of the great boulder that marked the entrance to the cave, -and so make sure that their balanced rock was in the right place. Then -there was nothing to do but wait. - -How the minutes dragged! Far up on the northern headland, Norah crouched -among sparse furze and heather, unheeding the prickly branches that -forbade comfort. The edge of the low cliff prevented her seeing the -inlet; she could only watch the dim outline of the coast, stretching -northward, and the stormy sky with its hurrying clouds. Before her -loomed dimly the heap of petrol-soaked wood and furze which they had -roughly piled in the darkness behind a boulder that hid it from watching -eyes, should any be on the alert. She had expected to be afraid when at -last they had all shaken hands with her and wished her luck before -creeping away to their posts; but now she found that she had no sense of -fear. Jim had stayed behind for a moment and kissed her, calling her -“old kiddie” in the way she loved. In the agony of wondering if she -would ever hear his voice again there was no room for fear for herself. - -John O’Neill had had longer to wait before climbing down to the beach. -He had lain on the edge of the high ground, motionless, taking advantage -of every moonlit moment to learn by heart the scene below as the tide -crawled backward. Jim’s plan was fresh in his memory: now he stared at -each boulder, studying opportunities for cover and making out the path -that the Germans must take to the cave. He knew where it was, though he -could not see it: it relieved him, too, that he was unable to discern -Jim and Wally, or to hear the faintest sound of their presence, although -he knew they must be on the rock. Finally, he made his cautious way to -the beach, and followed the tide out yard by yard, creeping from one -shadow to another: a shadow himself, white-faced and frail, among the -rugged boulders. - -It was very cold, on the wet sand; he shivered, and his teeth chattered. -He fell to rubbing himself steadily, chafing his wrists and ankles; but -it seemed as though the long watch would never end. Once, when the -clouds suddenly blew apart and the moon shone more brightly, he fancied -he saw a dim shape outside the headlands: a shape that might have been a -ship. But before he had time to be certain the dark masses overhead -drifted together once more, leaving him in doubt as to whether it had -not been his imagination. - -The shadow of dawn came in the east, and O’Neill felt his heart sink. -They were not coming, after all: soon it would be daylight and the tide -would turn and come creeping back to hide the cave for another twelve -hours. For a moment the keenness of disappointment made him shiver, -suddenly colder than he had ever been; and then his heart thumped and -the blood seemed to rush through his veins. Something, long, and grey, -and very faint was showing on the water. It was not a dream: he heard a -faint plash that he knew was an oar, muffled yet distinct in the deep -stillness: and then a low mutter of a voice, coming across the sea to -him. He drew a long, satisfied breath, and felt a hatchet that hung at -his belt, as he had felt it a hundred times, to make sure that it hung -where he could draw it easily. Then his hand closed on the revolver in -his coat-pocket and clung to it almost lovingly. For the first time in -his life it did not matter in the least that he was a hunchback. - -The low sound of oars came nearer, and gradually, out of the darkness, a -boat loomed upon the water and grounded softly on the strand. They were -not half a dozen yards from where O’Neill crouched in a patch of black -shadow, watching between two rocks. The men in her stepped out, quietly, -but showing no sense of danger. They were more in number than he had -expected; there would be a stiff fight if Jim and Wally failed to trap -them. He crouched lower, scarcely daring to breathe. Then one who was -evidently in command gave a low curt order and they filed off along the -winding path between the strewn boulders, leaving two of their number in -the boat. - -The rocks hid the main body for a moment. The guards worked the boat -round until her bow pointed outwards in readiness for the run back to -the submarine; then they came out, stamping on the sand to keep warm. -One of them, a thick-set fellow in oilskins, strode inland a few yards, -pausing so close to O’Neill that the Irishman could have touched him, -and for a sick instant he thought he was discovered; but the sailor -strolled back to his companion with a muttered curse at the cold, and -they stood by the boat, talking in low tones. O’Neill searched the rocks -with his eyes, straining to see the entrance to the cave. Surely it was -time for them to have reached it. Would the sound he longed for never -come? - -Then came a long reverberating crash, and another, and yet another and a -long, terrible cry, and above it a shrill whistle. The men on the beach -swung round, breaking into a torrent of bewildered furious speech. On -the northern headland came a flicker of light that spread upwards and -soared in a sheet of flame; and simultaneously Sir John fired at the man -nearest him and saw him pitch into the water on his face. The second man -rushed at him as he rose from behind the rock, and he fired again, and -missed; and the German Was upon him, towering over the slight, misshapen -form, and firing as he came. O’Neill felt a sharp agony in his side. The -two revolvers rang out together, and the German staggered and fell -bodily upon him, crushing him to the sand, while his revolver flew from -his hand, splashing into a pool in a rock. - -The Irishman twisted himself from under the inert weight, and struggled -to his feet. A German was rushing towards the boat, threading his way -among the rocks, his face desperate in its bewilderment and rage. The -sight gave strength to John O’Neill anew; he ran to the boat, staggering -as he ran, and pulling at his hatchet. There were dark stains on it as -he grasped it. The German saw his intention and shouted furiously, and -shots began to whistle past O’Neill. There was no time to look: he flung -himself into the boat, hacking wildly at the bottom, smiling as it split -under his blows and he felt the cold inrush of the water round his feet. -The German was upon him: just once he glanced aside from his work and -saw the cruel face and the levelled revolver very close, somewhere it -seemed that Jim and Wally were shouting. He smiled again, turning for a -final blow at the boat. Then sea and rock and sky seemed to burst round -him, with a deafening roar, in a blaze of white light that turned the -grey dawn into a path of glory. - - - -He woke from a dreamless sleep. They were all about him: kind faces that -loved him, that bent over him speaking gently. Some one had propped his -head, and had spread coats over him: he was glad of it, for he was very -cold. The wavering faces steadied as his vision grew clearer, and he saw -them all: David Linton and the boys, and Norah kneeling by him, her eyes -full of tears. That troubled him, and he groped for her hand, and held -it. - -“You mustn’t cry,” he whispered. - -Some one raised his head a little, putting a flask to his lips. He drank -eagerly. Then he saw another face he knew. - -“Hallo, Aylwin!” he said. “Did you get her?” - -The sailor nodded. “Don’t talk, old man.” - -O’Neill laughed outright. The brandy had brought life back to him. - -“I’m perfectly well,” he said. “Tell me, Jim—quick!” - -“We got them quite easily,” Jim said, his voice shaking. “The first rock -blocked the entrance, and they’re there yet. We sent down all the rocks, -and one fell on one of the two guards they left; the other managed to -wing Wally before he ran.” - -O’Neill started. - -“Is he hurt?” - -“Only my arm,” said Wally. “It’s quite all right—don’t you worry. It -wasn’t much to pay for the haul we got—thanks to you.” The boyish face -twitched, and he put out his hand and took O’Neill’s in its grip. - -“Go on, please,” Sir John begged. - -“The other chap ran,” Jim said: “of course his idea was to get the boat -back to the submarine. The brute got a start of us while we were making -sure the others were blocked in securely.” - -“Have you put a guard there?” O’Neill interrupted, anxiously. “They -might break out.” - -“Half a dozen of my men,” Aylwin said, quickly. “It’s all right, old -chap.” - -“We saw him begin to fire at you, and we did our best,” said Jim, with a -groan. “We didn’t dare fire, for fear of hitting you, until we were -close. Then we got him—but——” His strained voice ceased. - -“You needn’t worry—his mate had fixed me first,” said O’Neill, -serenely. “It was great luck I had, to be able to get to the boat at -all: your man didn’t matter.” He laughed happily. “This makes up for -having lived. Tell me your part of it, Bob.” - -“We got down in very good time,” Aylwin said. “The ship couldn’t come -in, of course; but I’ve a handy motor-boat with a gun rigged in her, and -we sneaked in and lay just under the south headland. It was quite -simple; we were into the inlet before the first flare died down, and -there was the submarine, with nothing doing. It was as easy as shelling -peas.” - -“Then it was your gun . . . ?” O’Neill said. - -“Yes. We’re on guard, of course; but she won’t come up again. When it’s -light we’ll deal with the gentlemen in the cave.” The sailor’s curt -voice became even more abrupt. “Never saw a show better planned—the -whole thing went like clockwork. I always knew you had the makings of a -general in you, Jack!” - -O’Neill gave a quick, happy sigh. - -“The boys and Norah did it all,” he said. “But it was splendid fun, to -be able to take a hand. I said it would be a jewel of a fight!” - -A slow wave of weakness stole over him, and he closed his eyes. - -“Is the tide coming in?” he said, presently. “I thought I felt -it—creeping.” - -Jim took off his coat and put it on his feet. - -“We’ll get you up to the motor presently,” he said, his young voice -unsteady. O’Neill laughed. - -“Not before the finish,” he said. “It won’t be long.” - -Norah’s head went down suddenly on his hand. - -“You can’t die!” she said,—“we can’t spare you, dear Sir John. We’re -going to make you better!” - -“Dying is only a very little matter, dear little mate,” O’Neill said. -“It’s living that hurts. And just think of what I have—a man’s finish! -That is a great thing, when one has lived a hunchback.” - -He did not speak for a long time, lying with closed eyes. The dawn was -breaking: light grew on the surface of the inlet, where long streaks of -oil floated on the ripples. They watched the quiet figure. Under the -coats that covered him, all traces of deformity were lost. Something of -new beauty had crept into the high-bred features; and when he opened his -eyes again they were like the smiling eyes of a child. They met Jim’s, -and the lips smiled too, while his weak hand rested on Norah’s head. - -“And I worrying,” he said, “because I was out of the war.” - -“You had your own job,” said Aylwin. “And you pulled it off, old man.” - -“It was great luck,” O’Neill said. “God had pity. Enormous luck . . . to -finish at a man’s job.” He did not speak again. The sun, climbing -upwards, shone tenderly upon the happy face. - - - - -[Illustration: “The German saw his intention and shouted furiously, and -shots began to whistle past O’Neill.”] - - _Jim and Wally_] [_Page_ 253 - - THE END. - - Butler & Tanner, Frome and London. - - - - - The Wonder Book - - THE FAVOURITE PICTURE - ANNUAL FOR BOYS & GIRLS - - _Crown 4to, Picture Boards, 3s. 6d. net. In handsome Cloth_ - _Gilt Binding, 5s. net. 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The type is -large and well-arranged, and by means of the full Index of First Lines -any rhyme can be found in a moment. - - FAIRY TALES - -Here again are all the immortals—old and yet ever new—Red Riding Hood, -Cinderella, Puss-in-Boots, the redoubtable Bluebeard and a host of -others. The text has been carefully edited in such a way that the -youngest child can understand and enjoy the stories. - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, E.C. - - - - - Charming Colour Books for - Children - - _Large Crown 8vo. Cloth Gilt. Handsome Binding Design_ - _with Pictorial Wrapper and Endpapers. 3s. 6d. net._ - - Each with 48 COLOURED PLATES - - By MARGARET W. TARRANT - - - ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN - WONDERLAND - -The edition of Lewis Carroll’s immortal masterpiece. Never has an artist -so successfully conceived the characters from a child’s point of view, -or given more happy expression to the sly humour and mock seriousness of -the story. This dainty volume, with its wealth of coloured plates, is -easily superior to editions published at three and four times the price. - - HANS ANDERSEN’S - FAIRY STORIES - -A selection of the stories which most appeal to younger children, -including such favourites as “The Ugly Duckling,” “The Little Mermaid,” -“The Tinder Box,” “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” “The Snow Queen,” and -others. The great Danish story-teller has a wonderful hold on the -affections of young people, and this book is sure to please. - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, E.C. - - - - - Stories by - - ETHEL TURNER - - _Large Crown 8vo. Fully Illustrated. Cloth Gilt. 3s. net_ - - SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS - THE FAMILY AT MISRULE - THE LITTLE LARRIKIN - MISS BOBBIE - THE CAMP AT WANDINONG - THREE LITTLE MAIDS - STORY OF A BABY - LITTLE MOTHER MEG - BETTY AND CO. - MOTHER’S LITTLE GIRL - THE WHITE ROOF-TREE - IN THE MIST OF THE MOUNTAINS - THE STOLEN VOYAGE - FUGITIVES FROM FORTUNE - THE RAFT IN THE BUSH - AN OGRE UP-TO-DATE - THAT GIRL - THE SECRET OF THE SEA - THE APPLE OF HAPPINESS - FAIR INES - THE FLOWER O’ THE PINE - THE CUB - JOHN OF DAUNT - CAPTAIN CUB - PORTS AND HAPPY HAVENS - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, E.C. - - - - - Stories by - - MARY GRANT BRUCE - - _Large Crown 8vo. Fully Illustrated. Cloth Gilt. 3s. net._ - - - POSSUM - -Mrs. Bruce writes with a freedom and grace which must win hosts of -readers, and there is a lovableness about her Australian youths and -maidens which makes one never tired of their healthy and sociable views -of life. - - JIM AND WALLY - -“There can be no doubt about the success of Miss Bruce . . . real pathos -which gets hold of the reader, and her effects are obtained in a real -natural way that makes them all the more telling. She evidently knows -the up-country life . . . she grips the attention from start to -finish.”—_Melbourne Argus._ - - A LITTLE BUSH MAID - -“It is a real pleasure to recommend this story to Australian -readers.”—_Perth Western Mail._ - - MATES AT BILLABONG - -“The incidents of station life, its humours, festivities, and mishaps, -are admirably sketched in this vivid narrative.”—_Adelaide Register._ - - TIMOTHY IN BUSHLAND - -“The writer understands all about the wonders of the Australian bush, -its wild horses, kangaroos, wombats, and infinitely various natural -life.”—_Daily Telegraph._ - - GLEN EYRE - -“An admirable story, exquisitely told, full of gentle pathos, and -ringing true all through.”—_The Sportsman._ - - NORAH OF BILLABONG - -“The story is written in a refreshing and lovable manner, which makes -instant appeal.”—_Manchester Courier._ - - GRAY’S HOLLOW - -“A story always healthy and enjoyable in its sympathetic delineation of -unsophisticated nature.”—_The Scotsman._ - - FROM BILLABONG TO LONDON - -“The story has many more incidents than Mrs. Bruce’s earlier books, and -though her style is quiet and matter-of-fact, she does succeed in -infusing reality into her exciting episodes.”—_The Melbourne Argus._ - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, E.C. - - - - - C. G. D. Roberts’ - - NATURE BOOKS - - _Large Crown 8vo. Cloth Gilt. Fully Illustrated._ - _Pictorial Endpapers. 3s. 6d. net._ - -A beautifully produced series of Animal Stories by a writer who has -succeeded in depicting the many thrilling incidents connected with -Animal Life with a reality unapproached by any other living Author. - - HOOF AND CLAW - THE HOUSE IN THE WATER - THE BACKWOODSMEN - KINGS IN EXILE - NEIGHBOURS UNKNOWN - MORE KINDRED OF THE WILD - THE FEET OF THE FURTIVE - -“Under the guidance of Mr. Roberts we have often adventured among the -wild beasts of the land and sea, and we hope to do so many times in the -future. It is an education not to be missed by those who have the -chance, and the chance is everyone’s. Mr. Roberts loves his wild nature, -and his readers, both old and young, should love it with -him.”—_Athenæum._ - - NEW VOLUME - - _With 16 Plates by_ PAUL BRANSOM - - THE SECRET TRAILS - - _Price 5s. net_ - - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON E.C. - - - - - A - Beautiful Gift Book - - BIBLE STEPS FOR - CHILDREN - - _Large Crown 8vo._ - - Stories from the Old and New Testaments - simply re-told by H. G. EMERSON - - With Introduction by The Rev. Edward Shillito, M.A. - - NET 2/6 NET - -The sacred stories are here re-told in simple and reverent language -easily intelligible to young people. Sunday School teachers and others -will find this a most useful Gift Book. With - - 8 COLOURED PLATES - -and many reproductions of the greatest pictures in Sacred Art. - - - - - WARD, LOCK & CO.’S - - Favourite Gift Books - - OF AUSTRALIAN CHILD LIFE - - _Crown 8vo. Cloth. 3s. net. Fully Illustrated._ - - By LILIAN TURNER - -“We are glad to have a simple, wholesome, restful writer like Lilian -Turner upon whom to fall back for stories for our growing girls to read -. . . she helps to keep our young people’s tastes pure and -simple.”—_Melbourne Argus._ - - AN AUSTRALIAN LASSIE - BETTY, THE SCRIBE - PARADISE AND THE PERRYS - THE PERRY GIRLS - THREE NEW CHUM GIRLS - APRIL GIRLS - STAIRWAYS TO THE STARS - A GIRL FROM THE BACK BLOCKS - WAR’S HEART THROBS - NOUGHTS AND CROSSES - - By VERA G. DWYER - -“Miss Vera G. Dwyer is a clever story writer, who has the art of -exciting great interest in her characters.”—_Dundee Courier._ - - WITH BEATING WINGS - A WAR OF GIRLS - MONA’S MYSTERY MAN - CONQUERING HAL - - BY OTHER AUTHORS - - MAORILAND FAIRY TALES EDITH HOWES - MAX THE SPORT LILIAN M. PYKE - DAYS THAT SPEAK EVELYN GOODE - THE CHILDHOOD OF HELEN EVELYN GOODE - - - - - GIFT BOOKS FOR BOYS - - _Large Crown 8vo. Fully Illustrated. 3s. 6d. net._ - - - Lord Roberts, K.G., V.C. - - By CAPTAIN OWEN WHEELER - -As a gift book for boys of all ages this story of a dauntless hero could -scarcely be surpassed, for long after his deeds as a soldier have lost -all but historical significance his character will remain as an example -to the manhood of Great Britain and the Empire, and indeed of all -English-speaking races. - -The book is lavishly illustrated with portraits and drawings which -practically depict the battle-history of the British Empire during a -period of sixty years. - - Dreadnoughts of the Dogger - - By ROBERT LEIGHTON - - _With Eight full-page Illustrations in tints._ - -“This is an adventure book of a kind to which the boy whose instinct is -for the Navy will turn with rejoicing, as it tells a tale of modern -naval fighting in the North Sea.”—_Bristol Times and Mirror._ - -“Every adventurous lad should read this tale, for from it he will learn -something of a stern discipline and at the same time make the -acquaintance of a really able piece of literary -craftsmanship.”—_Reading Standard._ - - - - - The Little Wonder - Books - - A Dainty New Series of Humorous Stories - for the Little Ones by HARRY GOLDING - - (_Editor of the WONDER BOOKS_) - - _Medium 16mo. Picture Boards. 1s. net._ - -The many children in all parts of the world who have grown accustomed -year by year to look for THE WONDER BOOK as the most welcome feature of -Christmas or the birthday will learn with interest that the big WONDER -BOOK has now a number of little brothers and sisters. The LITTLE WONDER -BOOKS are not for big boys and girls at all; they are the little ones’ -very own. Each booklet contains about THIRTY ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR, -printed on the very best art paper, and the type is so large and clear -that it will not baffle even the tiniest toddler. Best of all, the -stories are real stories, such as little people love and learn by heart -almost without knowing they do so. - - 1. BOBBY BUN AND BUNTY - 2. THE BROWNIES’ BIRTHDAY - 3. APPLE TREE VILLA - 4. TIM TUBBY TOES - 5. MOTHER GOOSE: Nursery Rhymes - 6. TICK, TACK AND TOCK - 7. BULLY BOY - 8. ROBBIE AND DOBBIE - 9. THE ANIMAL A.B.C. - 10. BEN BO’SUN - 11. THE TOY SOLDIERS - 12. BUBBLE AND SQUEAK - 13. OLD NOT-TOO-BRIGHT AND LILYWHITE - 14. THE GOBLIN SCOUTS - 15. WILLIE WINKIE - - - - - =_THE BOOK FOR THE HANDY MAN_= - - AN ENTIRELY NEW (REVISED AND RE-WRITTEN) - EDITION OF - - Every Man His - Own Mechanic - - _Nearly 400 Illustrations. Over 500 Pages. Large Crown 8vo._ - - NET =3/6= NET - - The most complete and comprehensive guide ever published - - FOR AMATEURS IN - - CARPENTRY - JOINERY - BUILDING - TURNING - PAINTING - GLAZING - SMITHING - METAL WORKING - UPHOLSTERING - FRENCH POLISHING - PICTURE FRAME MAKING - FRETWORK - VENEERING - PLUMBING - CARVING - MASONRY - PAPERHANGING - PLASTERING - GRAINING - STENCILLING - STAINING - BELL HANGING, &c. &c. - -“There is a fund of solid information of every kind in this work which -entitles it to the proud distinction of being a complete _vade mecum_ of -the subjects upon which it treats.”—_The Daily Telegraph._ - - - - - The New Stories by the Great Novelists, long and short - appear regularly in THE - - WINDSOR - - MAGAZINE - - THE IDEAL ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY - -which has achieved the Most Brilliant Success of the day. The list of -Contributors to THE WINDSOR is unrivalled, for it includes all the most -popular Novelist Writers and Artists. Here are the names of a few of -them:— - - RUDYARD KIPLING - SIR H. RIDER HAGGARD - ANTHONY HOPE - MAURICE HEWLETT - SIR GILBERT PARKER - W. J. LOCKE - H. G. WELLS - HALL CAINE - I. ZANGWILL - MAARTEN MAARTENS - H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON - H. A. VACHELL - W. W. JACOBS - BARRY PAIN - BEATRICE HARRADEN - ARNOLD BENNETT - CUTCLIFFE HYNE - HAROLD BINDLOSS - A. E. W. MASON - SIR A. CONAN DOYLE - JEROME K. JEROME - MARY CHOLMONDELEY - JUSTUS MILES FORMAN - E. F. BENSON - MRS. F. A. STEEL - GERTRUDE PAGE - EDEN PHILLPOTTS - BARONESS ORCZY - HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE - KEBLE HOWARD - CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS - -Every Number of THE WINDSOR contains several splendid Complete Stories -by Famous Novelists, Important Articles by Authoritative Specialists and -Beautiful Pictures by distinguished Artists. - -THE WINDSOR’S Illustrations represent the high-water mark of current -black-and-white art. In a word - - The WINDSOR holds the Record - For the BEST FICTION, ARTICLES and PICTURES - - _Sevenpence Monthly_ - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Jim and Wally - -Author: Mary Grant Bruce - -Release Date: October 7, 2019 [EBook #60445] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIM AND WALLY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:350px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illofront.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“ ‘Hold tight to the rail,’ Jim’s voice said in Nora’s ear.” (Page 67.)</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Frontispiece</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:1em;font-size:2em;'>JIM AND WALLY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:.8em;'>By</p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:.2em;font-size:1.2em;'>MARY GRANT BRUCE</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:.7em;'>Author of “Mates at Billabong,” “Norah of Billabong,” etc.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:15em;'><span class='gesp'>WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED</span></p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:.3em;margin-bottom:.3em;font-size:.8em;'>LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO</p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-bottom:2em;font-size:.7em;'>1917</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';italic;fs:1.2em;' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.2em;font-style:italic;'>   To</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.2em;font-style:italic;'>G. E. B.,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.2em;font-style:italic;'>       Cork, 1915-16</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'>CONTENTS</p> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 2.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 20em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 2.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAP.</span></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>I</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>War</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch1'>9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>II</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Yellow Envelopes</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch2'>30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>III</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>When the Boys come Home</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch3'>43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>IV</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>To Ireland</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch4'>53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>V</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Into Donegal</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch5'>74</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>VI</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Of Little Brown Trout</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch6'>98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>VII</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Lough Anoor</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch7'>113</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>VIII</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>John O’Neill</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch8'>131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>IX</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Pins and Pork</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch9'>147</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>X</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>The Rock of Doon</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch10'>161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XI</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Northward</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch11'>183</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XII</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Ass-Cart <span class='it'>versus</span> Motor</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch12'>197</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XIII</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>The Cave among the Rocks</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch13'>213</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XIV</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>A Family Matter</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch14'>229</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XV</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>Plans of Campaign</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch15'>242</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle2'>XVI</td><td class='tab2c2 leader-dots tdStyle3'><span><span class='sc'>The Fight in the Dawn</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle2'><a href='#ch16'>248</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 id='ch1'>CHAPTER I<br/> <span class='sub-head'>WAR</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“For one the laurel, one the rose, and glory for them all,</p> -<p class='line0'>All the gallant gentlemen who fight and laugh and fall.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Margery Ruth Betts.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>T</span>HE trench wound a sinuous way through the -sodden Flanders mud. Underfoot were boards; -and then sandbags; and then more boards, added as -the mud rose up and swallowed all that was put down -upon it. Some of the last-added boards had almost -disappeared, ground out of sight by the trampling feet -of hundreds of men: a new battalion had relieved, -three nights before, the men who had held that part of -the line for a week, and when a relief arrives, a trench -becomes uncomfortably filled, and the ground underfoot -is churned into deep glue. It was more than -time to put down another floor; to which the only -objection was that no more flooring material was -available, and had there been, no one had time to -fetch it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the second trench. Beyond it was another, -occupied by British soldiers: beyond that again, a -mass of tangled barbed-wire, and then the strip of -No-Man’s Land dividing the two armies—a strip -ploughed up by shells and scarred with craters formed -by the bursting of high explosives. Here and there -lay rifles, and spiked German helmets, and khaki -caps; but no living thing was visible save the cheeky -Flemish sparrows that hopped about the quiet space, -chirping and twittering as if trying to convince themselves -and everybody else that War was hundreds of -miles away. The sparrows carried out this pleasant -deception every morning, abandoning the attempt as -soon as the first German gun began what the British -soldiers, disagreeably interrupted in frying bacon, -termed “the breakfast hate.” Then they retreated -precipitately to the sparrow equivalent to a dug-out, -to meditate in justifiable annoyance on the curious -ways of men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the second trench the men were weary and heavy-eyed, -and even bacon had scant attractions for them. -It was their first experience of trench-life complicated -by shell-fire, and since their arrival the enemy had -been “hating” with a vigour that seemed to argue -on his part a peculiar sourness of temper. Now, after -two days of incessant artillery din and three nights -of the strenuous toil that falls upon the trenches with -darkness, the new men bore evidence of exhaustion. -Casualties had been few, considering the violent nature -of the bombardment; but to those who had never -before seen Death come suddenly, an even slighter -loss would have been horrifying. The ceaseless nerve-shattering -roar of the big guns pounded in their brains -long after darkness had put an end to the bombardment; -their brief snatches of sleep were haunted -by the white faces of the comrades with whom they -would laugh and fight and work no more. They were -stiff and sore with crouching under the parapets and -in the narrow dug-outs; dazed with noise, sullen with -the anger of men who have been forced to endure -without making any effort to hit back. But their -faces had hardened under the test. A few were shrinking, -“jumpy,” useless: but the majority had stiffened -into men. When the time for hitting back came, they -would be ready.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dawn on the fourth morning found them weary -enough, but, on the whole, in better condition than -they had been two days earlier. They were getting -used to it; and even to artillery bombardment -“custom hath made a property of easiness.” The -first sense of imminent personal danger had faded -with each hour that found most of them still alive. -Discipline and routine, making each officer and man -merely part of one great machine, steadied them into -familiar ways, even in that unfamiliar setting. And -above all was satisfaction that after months of slow -training on barrack-square and peaceful English fields -they were at last in the middle of the real thing—doing -their bit. It had been conveyed to them that -they were considered to be shaping none too badly: -a curt testimonial, which, passing down the line, had -lent energy to a hard night of rebuilding parapets, -mending barbed-wire, and cleaning up battered sections -of trench. They were almost too tired to eat. But -the morning—so far—was peaceful; the sunlight was -cheery, the clean breeze refreshing. Possibly to-day -might find the Hun grown weary of hating so noisily. -There were worse things than even a trench in Flanders -on a bright April morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim Linton sat on a small box outside his dug-out, -drinking enormous quantities of tea, and making a less -enthusiastic attempt to demolish the contents of an -imperfectly heated tin of bully beef. He was bare-headed, -owing to the fact that a portion of shrapnel -had removed his cap the day before, luckily without -damaging the head inside it. Mud plastered him from -neck to heels. He was a huge boy, well over six feet, -broad-shouldered and powerful; and the bronze which -the sun of his native Australia had put into his face -had been proof against the trench experiences that -had whitened English cheeks, less deeply tanned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another second lieutenant came hastily round a -traverse and tripped over his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s an awful lot of you in a trench!” said the -new-comer, recovering himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sorry,” said Jim. “I can’t find any other place -to put them; they <span class='it'>will</span> stick out. Never mind, the -mud will bury them soon; it swallows them if I forget -to move them every two minutes. Come and have -breakfast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want oceans of tea,” said Wally Meadows, dragging -a biscuit-tin from the dug-out, perching it precariously -on a small board island in the mud, and -seating himself with caution. He glanced with disfavour -at the beef-tin. “Is that good?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beastly,” Jim answered laconically. “Smith’s -strong point is not cookery. It’s faintly warm and -exceedingly tough; and something with moisture in -it seems to have happened to the biscuits. But the -tea is topping. I told Smith to bring another supply -presently. Bacon’s a bit short, so I said we preferred -bully.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally accepted a tin mug of milkless tea with -gratitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s great,” he said, after a beatific pause, -putting down the empty mug. He pushed his cap -back from his tired young face, and heaved a great -sigh of relief. “Blessings on whoever discovered -tea! I don’t think I’ll have any beef, thanks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you will,” Jim said, firmly. “I know it’s -beastly, and one isn’t hungry, but it’s a fool game -not to eat. If we have any luck there may be some -work to-day; and you can’t fight if you don’t eat -something. The first mouthful is the worst.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His chum took the beef-tin meekly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “If we only -do get a chance of fighting, I should think we’d have -enormous appetites afterwards; but one can’t get -hungry hiding in this beastly hole and letting Brother -Boche sling his tin cans at us. Wouldn’t you give -something for a bath and twelve hours’ sleep?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By Jove, yes!” Jim agreed. “But I don’t mind -postponing them if only we get a smack at those gentry -across the way first. Did you see Anstruther?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—he’s better. He dodged the R.A.M.C. men—said -he wasn’t going to be carted back because of a -knock on the head. He’s tied up freshly and looks -awfully interesting, but he declares he’s quite fit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Captain Anstruther was the company commander, a -veteran of one-and-twenty, with eight months’ service. -The two Australian boys, nineteen and eighteen respectively, -and fully conscious of their own limitations, -regarded him with great respect in his official capacity, -and, off duty, had clearly demonstrated their ability -to dispose of him, with the gloves on, within three -rounds. They were exceedingly good friends. Anstruther -could tell stories of the Marne, of the retreat -from Mons, of the amazing tangle of the first weeks -of war, which had left him, then a second lieutenant, -in sole command of the remnant of his battalion. -To the two Australians he was a mine of splendid -information. They were mildly puzzled at what he -demanded in return—bush “yarns” of their own -country, stories of cattle musterings, of aboriginals, -of sheep-shearing by machinery, of bush-fire fighting; -even of football as played at their school in Melbourne. -To them these things, interesting enough in peacetime -and in their own setting, were commonplace and -stale in the trenches, with Europe ablaze with battle -all round them. Anstruther, however, looked on war -with an eye that saw little of romance: willing to see -it through, but with no illusions as to its attractions. -He greatly preferred to talk of bush-fires, which he had -not seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yesterday a shell which had wrecked far too much -of a section of trench to be at all comfortable had provided -this disillusioned warrior with a means of escape, -had he so wished, by knocking him senseless, with a -severe scalp-wound. Counselled to seek the dressing-station -at the rear, when he had recovered his senses, -however, he had flatly declined; all his boredom lost -in annoyance at his aching head, and a wild desire to -obtain enemy scalps in vengeance. Jim and Wally -had administered first-aid with field dressings, and -the wounded one, declaring himself immediately cured, -had hidden himself and his bandages from any intrusive -senior who might be hard-hearted enough to insist -on his retirement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was a near thing,” Jim said reflectively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So was yours,” stated his chum.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—my old cap?—a miss is as good as a mile,” -said Jim. “I’m glad it wasn’t a bit nearer, though; -it would be a bore to be put out of business without -ever having seen a German, let alone finding out which -of us could ‘get his fist in fust.’ ” He rose, feeling -for his pipe. “Have you eaten your whack of that -stuff?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve done my best,” said Wally, displaying the -tin, nearly empty. “Can’t manage any more. Let’s -have a walk along the trench and see what’s happening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, keep your silly head down,” Jim said. “The -parapet is getting more and more uneven, and you -never remember you’re six feet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally grinned. Each of the friends suffered under -the belief that he was extremely careful and the other -destined to sudden death from unwittingly exposing -himself to a German sniper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you followed your own advice, grandmother,” -he said; “you being three inches taller, and six times -more careless! I always told your father and Norah -that you’d be an awful responsibility.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll put you under arrest if you’re not civil,” Jim -threatened. “Small boys aren’t allowed to be impertinent -on active service!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They floundered along in the mud, ducking whenever -the parapet was low: sandbags had run short, -and trench-repairing on the previous night had been -like making bricks without straw. The men were -finishing breakfast, keeping close to the dug-outs, since -at any moment the first German shell might scream -overhead. The line was very thin; reinforcements, -badly enough wanted, were reported to be coming -up. Meanwhile the battalion could only hope that -the shells would continue to spare them, and that when -the enemy came the numbers would be sufficiently -even to enable them to put up a good fight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Captain Anstruther, white-faced under a bandage -that showed red stains, nodded to them cheerily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ripping morning, isn’t it?” he said. “Hope -you’ve had a pleasant night, Linton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim grinned, glancing at his hands, which displayed -numerous long red scars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One’s nights here are first-class training for the -career of a burglar later on,” he said. “Mending -barbed-wire in the dark is full of unexpected happenings, -chiefly unpleasant. I don’t mind the actual -mending so much as having to lie flat on one’s face -in the mud when a star-shell comes along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very disorganizing to work,” said another subaltern, -Blake, whose mud-plastered uniform showed -that he had had his share of lying flat. In private -life Blake had belonged to the species “nut,” and had -been wont to parade in Bond Street in beautiful -raiment. Here, dirty, unshaven and scarcely distinguishable -from the muddiest of his platoon, he -permitted himself a cheerfulness that Bond Street had -never seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down,” Anstruther said. “There are more -or less dry sandbags, and business is slack. Why -didn’t you fellows come down to mess? Have you had -any breakfast?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, thanks,” Jim answered. “We fed up there—our -men were inclined to give breakfast a miss, so -we encouraged them to eat by feeding largely, among -them. Nothing like exciting a feeling of competition.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Trenches under fire don’t breed good healthy -appetites—at any rate until you’re used to them,” -Blake remarked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The men are bucking up well, all the same,” said -Anstruther. “I’m jolly proud of them; it’s a tough -breaking-in for fellows who aren’t much more than -recruits. They’re steadying down better than I could -have hoped they would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t the weary old barrack-square grind stand -to them now!” said Jim. “They see it, too, themselves; -only they’re very keen to put all the bayonet-exercise -into practice. Smith, my servant, was the -mildest little man you ever saw, at home; now he -spends most of the day putting a bloodthirsty edge -on his bayonet, and I catch him in corners prodding the -air and looking an awful Berserk. They’re all chirping -up wonderfully this morning, bless ’em. I shouldn’t -wonder if by this time to-morrow they were regarding -it all as a picnic!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it is, if you look at it the right way,” said Blake. -“Lots of jokes about, too. Did you hear what one of -our airmen gave the enemy on April the First? He -flew over a crowd behind their lines, and dropped a -football. It fell slowly, and Brother Boche took to -cover like a rabbit, from all directions. Then it struck -the ground and bounced wildly, finally settling to -rest: I suppose they thought it was a delay-action -fuse, for they laid low for a long time before they dared -believe it was not going to explode. So they came out -from their shelters to examine it, and found written -on it ‘April fool—<span class='it'>Gott strafe England</span>!’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hearers gave way to mirth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good man!” said Anstruther. “But there are -lots of mad wags among the flying people. I should -think it must make ’em extraordinarily cheerful always -to be cutting about in nice clean air, where there -isn’t any barbed-wire or mud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Feeling grunts came from the others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” said Garrett, another veteran of eight -months’ service. “There was one poor chap who -had engine-trouble when he was doing a lone reconnaissance, -and had to come down behind the German -lines. He worked furiously, and just got his machine -in going order, when two enemy officers trotted up, -armed with revolvers, and took him prisoner. Then -they thought it would be a bright idea to make him -take <span class='it'>them</span> on a reconnaissance over the Allied lines; -which design they explained to him in broken English -and with a fine display of their portable artillery, -making him understand that if he didn’t obey he’d be -shot forthwith.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But he didn’t!” Wally burst out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just you wait, young Australia—you’re an awful -fire-eater!” said the narrator. “The airman thought -it over, and came to the conclusion that it would be a -pity to waste his valuable life; so he gave in meekly, -climbed in, and took his passengers aboard. They -went off very gaily, and he gave them a first-rate -view of all they wanted to see; and, of course, carrying -our colours, he could fly much lower than any German -machine could have gone in safety. It was jam for -the two Boches; I guess they felt their Iron Crosses -sprouting. Their joy only ended—and then it ended -suddenly—when he looped the loop!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The audience jumped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What happened?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They very naturally fell out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the airman?” Wally asked, ecstatically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He had taken the precaution to strap himself in—unobtrusively. -Didn’t I tell you he appreciated his -valuable life?” said Garrett, laughing. “He came -down neatly where he wanted to, made his report, -and sent out a party to give decent burial to two very -dead amateur aviators. The force of gravity is an -excellent thing to back you up in a tight place, isn’t -it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s something to get one’s chance—and it’s -quite another to know when to take advantage of it,” -said Anstruther. “I expect an airman has to learn -to make up his mind quicker than most of us. But -there’s no doubt of the chances that come to some -people. A Staff officer was here early this morning, -and he was telling me of young Goujon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s he?” queried Blake, lazily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s a French kid—just seventeen. He was one -of a small party sent out to locate some enemy machine-guns -that were giving a good deal of trouble. They -found ’em, all right; but when they were wriggling -their way back a shell came along and wiped out the -entire crowd—all except this Goujon kid. He was -untouched, and he hid for hours in the crater made -by the explosion of the shell. When it got dark he -crept out: but by that time he was pretty mad, and -instead of getting home, he wanted to get a bit of his -own back, and what must he do but crawl to those -machine-guns and lob bombs on them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s some kid,” said Blake briefly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, he was, rather. He destroyed two of the -three guns, and then was overpowered—<span class='it'>that</span> wouldn’t -have taken long!—and made prisoner: pretty roughly -handled, too. But before he could be sent to the -rear, some of our chaps made a little night-attack on -that bit of German trench, and in the excitement -Goujon got away. So he trotted home—but on the -way he stopped, and gathered up the remaining -machine-gun. Staggered into his own lines with it. -They’ve given him the Military Medal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Deserved it, too,” was the comment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And he’s seventeen!” said some one. “He ought -to get pretty high up before the war is over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know a man who’s a major at nineteen,” Anstruther -said, “Went out as a second lieutenant and -was promoted for gallantry at Mons; got his captaincy -and was wounded at the Aisne; recovered, and at -Neuve Chapelle was the sole officer left, except two -very junior subalterns, in all his battalion. He handled -it in action, brought them out brilliantly—awful corner -it was, too,—and was in command for a fortnight -after, before they could find a senior man; there -weren’t any to spare. He was gazetted major last -week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lucky dog!” said Blake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I suppose he is. They say he’s a genius -at soldiering, anyhow; and, of course, he got his chance. -There must be hundreds of men who would do as -well if they ever got it; only opportunity doesn’t -come their way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They say this will be a war for young men,” Garrett -said. “We’re going back to old days; I believe -Wellington and Napoleon were colonels at twenty. -And that’s more than you will be, young Meadows, -if you don’t mend your ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never expected to be,” said Wally, thus attacked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why won’t I, anyhow, apart from obvious -reasons?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because you’ll be a neat little corpse,” said Garrett. -“What’s this game of yours I hear about?—crawling -round on No-Man’s Land at night, and -collecting little souvenirs? The souvenir you’ll certainly -collect will come from a machine-gun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally blushed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there are such a jolly lot of things there,” -he defended himself. “Boche helmets—I’ve got three -beauties—and belts, and buckles, and things. People -at home like ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Presumably people at home like you,” Anstruther -said. “But they certainly won’t have you to like -if you do it, and it’s possible their affection might -even wane for a German helmet that had cost you -your scalp. <span class='it'>Verboten</span>, Meadows; that’s good German, -at any rate. Understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally assented meekly. Jim Linton, apparently -sublimely unconscious of the conversation, sighed -with relief. His chum’s adventurous expeditions had -caused him no little anxiety, especially as they were -undertaken at a time when his own duties prevented -his keeping an eye on the younger boy—which would -probably have ended in his accompanying him. From -childhood, Jim and Wally had been accustomed to do -things in pairs: a habit which had persisted even -to sending them together from Australia to join the -Army, since Wally was too young for the Australian -forces. England was willing to take boys of seventeen; -therefore it was manifestly out of the question -that Jim should join anywhere but in England, despite -his nineteen years. And as Jim’s father and sister -were also willing to come to England, the matter had -arranged itself as a family affair. Wally Meadows was -an orphan, and the Linton family had long included -him on a permanent, if informal, basis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s jolly to get V.C.’s and medals and other ironmongery,” -Anstruther was saying; “but I’d like to be -the chap who organized the Toy Band on the retreat -from Mons. He was a Staff officer, and he found -the remains of a regiment, several hundred strong, -straggling through a village, just dead beat. The -Germans were close on their heels; the British had -no officers left, and had quite given up. The Staff -chap called on them to make another effort to save -themselves, but they wouldn’t—they had been on -the run for days, were half-starved, worn out: they -didn’t care what happened to them. The officer was -at his wits’ end what to do, when his eye fell on a little -bit of a shop—you know the usual French village -store, with all sorts of stuff in the window: and there -he saw some toy drums and penny whistles. He -darted in and bought some: came out and induced -two or three of the less exhausted men to play them—it’s -said he piped on one penny whistle himself, only -he won’t admit it now. But you know what the tap -of a drum will do on a route-march when the men -are getting tired. He roused the whole regiment with -his fourpence-worth of band and brought them back -to their brigade next day—never lost a man!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jolly good work,” said Blake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He won’t get anything for it, of course,” said -Anstruther. “You don’t get medals for playing tin -whistles; and anyhow, there was no one to report it. -But—yes, I’d like to have been that chap.” He rose -and stretched himself, taking advantage of a section -of undamaged parapet. “Brother Boche is rather -late in beginning his hate this morning, don’t you -think?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps he’s given up hating as a bad job,” Wally -suggested.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll miss the dear old thing if he really means -to leave us alone,” said Anstruther. “Just as well -if he does, though: our line is painfully thin, and it’s -evident to anyone that our guns are short of ammunition: -we’re giving them about one shell to twenty -of theirs. And don’t they know it! They send us -enormous doses of high-explosive shells, and in return -we tickle them feebly with a little shrapnel. They -must chuckle!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose England will wake up and make munitions -for us when we’re all wiped out,” said Garrett, -scornfully. “They’re awfully cheery over there: -theatres and restaurants packed, business as usual, -bull-dog grit, and all the rest of it: Parliament yapping -happily, and strikes twice a week. And our chaps -trying to fight for ’em, and dying for want of ammunition -to do it with. I suppose they think we’re rather -lazy not to make it in our spare time!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid they won’t appoint me dictator just -yet,” Blake remarked. “If they would, I’d have -every striker and slacker out here: not to fight, but -to mend barbed-wire, clean up trenches, and do the -general dirty work. First-rate tonic for a disgruntled -mind. And I’d send what was left of them to the end -of the world afterwards. Will you have them in Australia, -Linton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks; we’ve plenty of troubles of our own,” -Jim returned hastily. “Don’t you think we were -dumping-ground for your rubbish for long enough?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were a large, empty place, and you had to be -peopled,” said Blake, grinning. “And a good many -of them were very decent people, I believe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, they might well be,” Jim responded—“you -sent them out for stealing a sheep or a shirt or a medicine-bottle: -one poor kid of six was sent out for life -for stealing jam-tarts. Many excellent men must -have begun life by stealing jam-tarts: I did, myself!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’re a sample of the after-effects, I don’t -wonder we exported the other criminals early,” laughed -Blake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if any of their descendants grew into the -chaps that landed at Gallipoli the other day, they were -no bad asset,” said Anstruther. “By Jove, those -fellows must be fighters, Linton! I wouldn’t care -to have the job of holding them back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew they’d fight,” said Jim briefly. Down -in his quiet soul he was torn between utter pride in -his countrymen, and woe that he had not been with -them in that stern Gallipoli landing: the latter emotion -firmly repressed. It had been the fight of his boyish -dreams—wild charging, hand to hand work, a fleeing -enemy: not like this hole-and-corner trench existence -unseen by the unseen foe, with Death that could not -be combated dropping from the sky. His old school-fellows -had been at Gallipoli, and had “made good.” -He ached to have been with them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An orderly came up hurriedly. Anstruther tore -open the note he carried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s word of an enemy attack,” he said crisply. -“Get to your places—quick!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The subalterns scattered along the trench, each to his -platoon. They had already inspected the men, making -sure that no detail of armament had been forgotten, -and that rifles were all in order. Garrett, who commanded -the machine-gun section, fled joyfully to the -emplacement, his face like a happy child’s. The alarm -ran swiftly up and down the trench: low, sharp words -of command brought every man to his place, while -the sentries, like statues, were glued to their peep-holes. -Jim and Wally fingered their revolvers, scarcely -able to realize that the time for using them had come -at last. Field officers appeared, hurriedly scanning -every detail of preparation, and giving a word of advice -here and there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank ’eving, we’re going to have a look-in!” -muttered a man in front of Jim: a grizzled sergeant -with the two South African ribbons on his breast. -“Steady there, young ’Awkins; don’t go meddlin’ -with that trigger of yours. You’ll get a chanst of -loosin’ off pretty soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cawn’t come too soon for me!” said Hawkins, -in a throaty whisper, fondling his rifle lovingly. -“They got me best pal yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then keep your ’ead cool till the time comes to -mention wot you think of ’em,” returned the sergeant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim and Wally found a chink in the sandbag parapet, -and looked out eagerly ahead. All was quiet. The -sparrows, made bold by the extraordinary peace of -the morning, still chirped and twittered on No-Man’s -Land. No sound came from the German trenches -beyond. Here and there a faint smoke-wreath curled -lazily into the air, telling of cooking-fires and breakfast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do they know they’re coming?” Wally whispered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aeroplane reconnaissance, I suppose,” Jim -answered, pointing to two or three specks floating -in the blue overhead, far out of reach of the anti-aircraft -guns. “They’ve been hovering up there all -the morning. Feeling all right, Wal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fit as a fiddle. I suppose I’ll be in a blue funk -presently, but just now I feel as if I were going to a -picnic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So do I—and the men are keen as mustard. I -thought little Wilson would be useless; you know -how jumpy he’s been since we came here. But look -at him, there; he’s as steady and cool as any sergeant. -They’re good boys,” said the subaltern, who was not -yet twenty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mind your ’ead, sir!” came in an agonized whisper -from a corporal below; and Jim ducked obediently -under the lee of the parapet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s quite hot,” he said, peering again through -his peep-hole. “There’s a jolly breeze springing up, -though.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The breeze came softly over No-Man’s Land, fluttering -the wings of the cheerful sparrows. Across the -scarred strip of grass a low, green cloud wavered upwards. -It grew more solid, spreading in a dense wall -over the parapet of the German trench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth——?” Jim began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The green cloud seemed to hesitate. Then the -wind freshened a little, and it suddenly blew forward -across No-Man’s Land, growing denser as it came. -Before it, the sparrows fled suddenly, darting to the -upper air with shrill chirpings of alarm. But one bird, -taken unawares, beat his wings wildly for a moment, -flying forward. Then he pitched downwards and -the cloud rolled over him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” uttered Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before the parapet of the British trench ahead of -them the cloud stood for a moment, and then toppled -bodily into the trench. It fell as water falls like a -heavy thing. From its green depths came hoarse -shouts, and rifles suddenly went off in an irregular -fusillade. Then the cloud rolled over, leaving the -trench full of vapour, and stole towards the second -British line.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great cry came ringing down the trench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gas! It’s their filthy gas!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a new thing, and no one was prepared for it. -Across the Channel, England was shuddering over -the first reports of the asphyxiating gas attacks, and -the women of England were working night and day at -the first half-million respirators to be sent out to the -troops. But to the men in the trenches there had -come only vague rumours of what the French and -Canadians had suffered: and they had been slow to -believe. It was not easy to realize, unseeing, the full -horror of that most malignant device with which -Science had blackened War. A few of the officers had -respirators—dry, and comparatively useless. The men -were utterly unprotected. Like sheep waiting for the -slaughter they stood rigidly at attention, waiting for -the evil green cloud that blew towards them, already -poisoning the clean air with its noxious fumes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tie your handkerchiefs round your mouths and -nostrils!” Jim Linton shouted. “Quick, Wally!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He caught at the younger boy’s handkerchief and -knotted it swiftly. The corporal shook his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Most of ’em ain’t got no ’ankerchers, sir,” he said -grimly. “They <span class='it'>will</span> clean their rifles with ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then came another cry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look out—they’re coming!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dimly, behind the cloud of gas, they could see -shadowy forms clambering over the parapet of the -enemy trench; German soldiers, unreal and horrible -in their hideous respirators, with great goggle eyes of -talc. Ahead, the quick spit of machine-guns broke -out spitefully; and, as if in answer, Garrett’s Maxims -opened fire. Then the gas was upon them: falling -from above over the parapet, stealing like a live thing -down the communication trench that led from the -first line, where already the Germans were swarming. -Men were choking, gasping, fighting for air; dropping -their rifles as they tore at their collars, losing their -heads altogether in the horror of the silent attack. A -little way down the trench Anstruther was trying to -rally them, his voice only audible for a few yards. Jim -echoed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on, boys! it’s better in the open. Let’s get -at them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sprang up over the parapet, Wally at his side. -There were bullets whistling all round them, but the -air was more free—it was Paradise compared to the -agony of suffocation in the trench. Some of the men -followed. Jim leaped back again, dragging at others; -pushing, striking, threatening; anything to get them -up above, where at least they might die fighting, not -like rats in a hole. He was voiceless, inarticulate; -he could only point upwards, and force them over the -parapet and into the bullet-swept space. Wally was -there—was Wally killed? Then he saw him beside -him in the trench, dragging at little Private Wilson, -who had fallen senseless. Together they lifted him -and flung him out at the rear, turning to fight with -other men who had given up and were leaning against -the walls, choking. Above them Anstruther was -getting the men into some semblance of formation to -meet the oncoming rush of Germans. He called to -them sharply, authoritatively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Linton!—Meadows! Come out at once!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim tried to obey. Then he saw that Wally was -staggering, and flung his arm round him; but the -arm was suddenly limp and helpless, and Wally pitched -forward on his face and lay still, gasping. Jim tried -to drag him up, fighting with the powerlessness that -was creeping over him. Behind him the roar of -artillery grew faint in his ears and died away, though -still he seemed to hear the steady spit of Garrett’s -machine-guns. He sagged downwards. Then black, -choking darkness rushed upon him, and he fell across -the body of his friend.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo11.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“Jim Linton sat on a small box outside his dug-out . . .”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab3' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page 11</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='ch2'>CHAPTER II<br/> <span class='sub-head'>YELLOW ENVELOPES</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“London’s smoke hides all the stars from me,</p> -<p class='line0'>Light from mine eyes and Heaven from my heart.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Dora Wilcox.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>T</span>HE lift came gliding on its upward journey in a -big London hotel, far too slowly for the impatience -of its only passenger, a tall girl of sixteen, with -a mop of brown curls, and grey eyes alight with excitement. -Ordinarily, Norah Linton was rather pale, -especially in London, where the air is largely composed -of smoke, and has been breathed in and out of a great -number of people until it is nearly worn out; but just -now there was a scarlet spot on each cheek, and her -mouth broke into smiles as though it could not help -itself. At Floor No. 4, a fat old lady threatened to stop -the lift, but decided at the last moment that she -preferred to walk upstairs. At No. 5, no one was in -sight, and Norah sighed with audible relief, and ejaculated, -“Thank goodness!” At No. 6, two men were -seen hurrying along the corridor some distance away, -and shouting, “Lift!” But at this point the lift-boy, -to whom Norah’s impatience had communicated itself, -behaved like Nelson when he applied his telescope to -his blind eye, and shot upwards, disregarding the -shouts of his would-be passengers; and, passing by -No. 7 as though it were not there, brought the lift to -an abrupt halt at No. 8, flinging the door open with a -rattle and a triumphant, “There y’are, miss!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you!” said Norah, flashing at him a grateful -smile that sent the lift-boy earthwards in a state of -mind that made him loftily oblivious of the reproaches -of neglected passengers. She was out of the lift with a -quick movement, and in the empty corridor broke into -a run. Her flying feet carried her swiftly to a sitting-room -some distance away, and she burst in like a -whirlwind. “Dad! Daddy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no one there, and with an exclamation -of impatience she turned and ran once more, far too -excited now to care whether any Londoners were there -to be shocked at the spectacle of a daughter of Australia -racing along an hotel corridor. She had not far to go; -a turn brought her face to face with a tall man, lean -and grizzled, who cast a glance at her that took in the -crumpled yellow envelope in her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one with a soldier son looked calmly on telegrams -in those days, and David Linton’s face changed -abruptly. “What is it, Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re coming,” said Norah, and suddenly found -a huge lump in her throat that would not go away. -She put out a hand and clung to her father’s coat. -“They’re truly coming, daddy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her father’s voice was not as steady as usual.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re all right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, they must be. It says ‘Better—London -to-morrow.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better?” mused Mr. Linton. “I wonder if that -means hospital or us, Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah’s face fell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it may be hospital,” she said. “It was -so lovely to think they were coming that I nearly -forgot that part of it. Can we find out, daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll go and try,” Mr. Linton said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now?” said Norah, and jigged on one foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll get my hat,” said her father, departing with a -step not so unlike his daughter’s. Norah waited in -the corridor for a few minutes, and then, impatient -beyond the possibility of further waiting in silence, -followed him to his room, there finding him endeavouring -to remove London mud-stains from a trouser-leg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might think when you’ve managed to brush -it off that it had gone—but indeed it hasn’t,” said -David Linton, wrathfully regarding gruesome stains -and brushing them with a vigour that should have been -productive of better results.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does cling,” remarked Norah, comprehendingly. -“I’ll sponge it for you, daddy; those stains never yield -to mild measures. Daddy, do you think they’ll be -long getting better?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Anyone else might have been excused for thinking -she meant the mud-stains. But David Linton made -no such mistake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “One hears such -different stories about that filthy German gas. It all -depends on the size of the dose they got, I fancy. Jim -said it was mild; but then Jim would say a good deal -to avoid frightening us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And he was able to write. But Wally hasn’t -written.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; and that doesn’t look well. He’s such a -good lad—it’s quite likely he’d write and let us know -all he could about Jim. But I don’t fancy the doctors -would let them travel unless they were pretty well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose not. Oh, doesn’t it seem ages until -to-morrow, dad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’ll come, if you give it time,” said her father. -“However—yes, it does seem a pretty long time, -Norah.” They laughed at each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t do a bit of good for you to put on that -wise air,” Norah said, “because I know exactly how -you feel, and that’s just the same as I do. And anyone -would be the same who had two boys at the Front -like Jim and Wally.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think they would,” said her father, abandoning -as untenable the position of age and wisdom. “Thank -goodness they will be back with us to-morrow, at any -rate.” He put his clothes-brush on the table and -stood up, tall and thin and a little grim. “It seems a -long while since they went away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Long!” Norah echoed, expressively. It was in -reality only a month since her brother Jim and his chum -had said good-bye on the platform at Victoria Station; -and in some ways it seemed only a few minutes since -the train had moved slowly out, with the laughing -boyish faces framed in the window. But each slow -day, with its dragging weight of anxiety, had been a -lifetime. To them had come what the whole world -had learned to know; the shiver of fear on opening -the green envelopes from the Front; the racking longing -for the news; the sick dread at the sight of a telegram—even -at the sound of an unusual knock. David -Linton had grown silent and grim; Norah felt an old -woman, and the care-free Australian life which was -all she had known seemed a world away—vanished -as completely as the Australian tan had faded from -her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now it was all over, and for a while, at any rate, -they could forget. Jim had so managed that no shock -came to them—the cheery telegram he had contrived -to send before being taken to hospital had reached them -two days earlier than the curt War Office intimation -that both boys were suffering from gas-poisoning. Jim -did not mean that they should ever know what it had -meant to send it. The cavalry subaltern who had -helped him along to the dressing-station had been very -kind; he had contrived to hear the address, even in -the choked, strangling whisper, which was all the voice -the gas had left to Jim; had even suggested a wording -that would tell without alarming, and had put aside -almost angrily Jim’s struggle to find his money. -“Don’t you worry,” he had said, “it’ll go. I’ve -seen other chaps gassed, and you’ll be all right soon.” -He was a cheery pink and white youngster: Jim was -sorry he had not found out his name. In the hard -days and nights that followed, his face hovered round -his half-conscious dreams—curiously like a little lad -who had fagged for him at school in Melbourne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was two weeks ago, and of those two weeks -Mr. Linton and Norah fortunately knew little. Wally -had been the worst; Jim had been dragged out of -the gassed trench a few minutes earlier than his friend, -and possibly to the younger boy the shock had been -greater. When the first terrible paroxysms passed, -he could only lie motionless, endeavouring to conjure -up a faint ghost of his old smile when Jim’s anxious -face peered at him from the next bed. Neither had -any idea at all of how they had reached the hospital -at Boulogne; all their definite memories ended -abruptly when that evil-smelling green cloud had rolled -like a wave above them into the trench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Out of the first dark mist of choking suffering they -had passed slowly into comparative peace, broken now -and then by recurring attacks, but, by contrast, a very -haven of tranquillity. They were very tired and lazy: -it was heavenly to lie there, quite still, and watch the -blue French sky through the window and the kind-faced -nurses flitting about—each doing far too much -for her strength, but always cheery. They did not -want to talk—their voices had gone somewhere very -far off; all they wanted was just to be quiet; not to -move, not to talk, not to cough. Then, as the clean -vigour of their youth reasserted itself, and strength -came back to them, energy woke once more, and with -it their old-time lively hatred of bed. They begged -to be allowed to get up; and as their places were badly -needed for men worse than they, the doctors granted -their prayer—after which they would have been extremely -glad to get back again, only that pride forbade -their admitting it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover, there was London; and London, with -all that it meant to them, was worth a struggle. Two -months earlier it had bored them exceedingly, and -nothing had seemed worth while, with the call in -their blood to be out in the trenches. Now, after -actual experience of the trenches, their ideas had -undergone a violent change. The romance of war had -faded utterly. The Flying Corps might retain it still—those -plucky fighting men who soared and circled -overhead, bright specks in the clouds and the blue -sky; but to the men who grubbed underground amid -discomfort, smells, and dirt, to which actual fighting -came as a blessed relief, war had lost all its glamour. -They wanted to see the job through. But London -was coming first, and it had blossomed suddenly into -a paradise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of which Jim had tried to put into his shaky -pencilled notes; and the certainty of their boys’ -gladness to get back lay warm at the hearts of Norah -and her father as they walked along Piccadilly. Spring -was in the air: the Park had been full of people, the -Row crowded with happy children, scurrying up and -down the tan on their ponies, with decorous grooms -endeavouring to keep them in sight. The window-boxes -in the clubs were gay with daffodils and hyacinths: -the busy, knowing London sparrows twittered -noisily in the budding trees, making hurried arrangements -for setting up housekeeping in the summer. -Even though war raged so close to England, and its -shadow lay on every hearth, nothing could quite -dim the gladness of London’s awakening to the -Spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Those fellows all look so happy,” said Mr. Linton, -indicating a motor-car crammed with wounded men -in their blue hospital suits and scarlet ties. “One -never sees a discontented face among them. I hope -our boys will look as happy, Norah.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If there is any chance of looking happy, Jim and -Wally will take it!” said Norah, firmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think they will,” said her father, laughing. “The -difficulty is to imagine them ill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, isn’t it? Do you remember when those -horrid Zulus battered them about so badly in Durban, -how extraordinary it was to see them both in bed, -looking pale?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I think it was the first time it had occurred -to either of them,” said Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose one could never realize the awful effects -of the gas unless one actually saw it,” Norah said. -“But I can’t help feeling glad, if they had to be hurt, -that it was that: not wounds or—crippling.” Her -voice fell on the last word. “I just couldn’t bear the -thought of Jim or Wally being crippled.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t!” said her father, sharply. “Please God, -they’ll come out of it without that. And as for the -gas—Jim assured us they would be all right, but I’ll -be glad when I talk to a doctor about them myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Inquiries proved disappointing. It was certain -that the boys would not be allowed to return directly -to them. They would travel in hospital trains and a -hospital ship; it was difficult to say where men would -be taken, when so many, broken and helpless, were -being brought to England every day. The Victorian -Agent-General was sympathetic and helpful; he -promised to find out all that could be found from the -overworked authorities, and to let them know at the -earliest possible moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I fancy that long son of yours will find a way -of letting you know himself, Mr. Linton,” he said. -“I’ll do my best—but I wouldn’t mind betting he gets -ahead of me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came out of the building that is a kind of oasis -in London to all homesick Victorians, pausing, as they -always did, to look at the exhibits in the outer office—wool -and wheat and timber, big model gold nuggets, -and the shining fruits that spoke of the orchards -on the hillsides at home; with pictures of wide -pastures where sleek cattle stood in the knee-high -grass, or reapers and binders whirred through splendid -crops. It was a little patch of Australia, planted in -the very heart of London; hard to realize that just -outside the swinging glass doors the grey city—history -suddenly become a live thing—stretched away eastward, -and, to the west, the roaring Strand carried its -mighty burden of traffic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll always be glad I had the chance of seeing -London,” said Norah. “But whenever I come here -I know how glad I’ll be to go back!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know that without coming here,” said her father, -drily. “It would be jolly if we could take those boys -home to get strong, Norah.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Billabong?” said Norah, wistfully. “Oh-h! -But we’ll do it some day, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I trust so. Won’t there be a scene when we get -back!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I dream about it!” said Norah. “And I -wake up all homesick. Can’t you picture Brownie, -dad!—she’ll have cooked everything any of us ever -liked, and the house will be shining from top to bottom, -and there won’t be a thing different—I know she dusts -your old pipes and Jim’s stockwhips herself every day! -And Murty will have the horses jumping out of their -skins with fitness, and Lee Wing’s garden will be something -marvellous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Billy,” said David Linton, laughing. “Can’t -you see his black face—and his grin!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, and the great wide paddocks—the view from -the verandah, across the lagoon and looking right -over the plains! I don’t seem to have looked at anything -far away since we came off the ship,” said Norah; -“all the views are shut in by houses, and the air is so -thick one couldn’t see far, in any case!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They tell me there’s clear air in Ireland,” said her -father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I want to go there,” responded his daughter, -promptly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—we might do worse than that. I’ve been -thinking a good deal, Norah; if the boys don’t get -well quickly—and I believe few of the gassed men do—we -shall have to take them away somewhere for a -change.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly,” agreed Norah. “We couldn’t keep -them in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, of course not. Country air and not too many -people; that is the kind of tonic our boys will want. -What would you think of going to Ireland?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah drew a long breath of delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh-h!” she said. “You do make the most -beautiful plans, daddy! We’ve always wanted to go -there more than anywhere: and war wouldn’t seem -so near to us there, and we could try to make the boys -forget gas and trenches and shells and all sorts of -horrors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just it,” said her father. “The wisest -doctor I ever knew used to say that change of environment -was worth far more than change of air; we -might try to manage both for them, Norah. Donegal -was your mother’s country: I’ve been meaning to go -there. She loved it till the day she died.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the tumult of the Strand Norah slipped a hand -into her father’s. Very seldom did he speak of the -one who was always in his memory: the little mother -who had grown tired, and had slipped out of life when -Norah was a baby.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go there, daddy,” she begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll consult the boys,” said Mr. Linton. “Eh, -but it’s good to think we shall have them to consult -with to-morrow! You know, Norah, since Jim left -school, I’ve become so used to consulting him on all -points, that I feel a lost old man without him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll never be old!” said his daughter, indignantly. -“But Jim just loves you to talk to him the -way you do,—I know he does, only, of course, he’s quite -unable to say so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim has lots of sense,” said Jim’s father. “So -has Wally, for that matter: there is plenty of shrewdness -hidden somewhere in that feather-pate of his. -They’re very reliable boys. I was ‘thinking back’ -the other night, and I don’t remember ever having -been really angry with Jim in my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should think not!” said Norah, regarding him -with wide eyes of amazement. “Why would you be -angry with him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I don’t know,” said her father rather helplessly. -“Jim never was a pattern sort of boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but he had sense,” said Norah. She began -to laugh. “Oh, I don’t know how it is,” she said. -“We’ve all been mates always: and mates don’t get -angry with each other, or they wouldn’t be mates.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose that’s it,” Mr. Linton said, accepting -this comprehensive description of a bush family standpoint. -“There’s a ’bus that will go our way, Norah: -I’ve had enough of elbowing my way through this -crowd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They climbed on top of the motor-’bus, and found -the front seat empty; and when Norah was on the -front seat of a ’bus she always felt that it was her own -private equipage and that she owned London. To -their left was the huge yard of Charing Cross Station, -crowded with taxis and cabs and private motors, with -streams of foot passengers pouring in and out of the -gateways. At Charing Cross one may see in five -minutes more foreigners than one meets in many hours -in other parts of London, and this was especially the -case since the outbreak of war. Homesick Belgian -refugees were wont to stray there, to watch the stream -of passengers from the incoming Continental trains, -hoping against hope that they might see some familiar -face. There were soldiers of many nations; unfamiliar -uniforms were dotted throughout the crowd, besides -the khaki that coloured every London street. Even -from the ’bus-top could be heard snatches of talk in -many languages—save only one often heard in former -days: German. A string of recruits, each wearing the -King’s ribbon, swung into the station under a smart -recruiting sergeant: a cheery little band, apparently -relieved that the plunge had at last been taken, and -that they were about to shoulder their share of the -nation’s work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a straight pair of shoulders among the lot,” -remarked Mr. Linton, surveying them critically. “It’s -pleasant to think that very soon they will be almost -as well set up as that fellow in the lead. War is going -to do a big work in straightening English shoulders—morally -and physically.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ’bus gave a violent jerk, after the manner of -’buses in starting, and moved on through the crowded -street, threading its way in and out of the traffic in the -most amazing fashion—finding room to squeeze its -huge bulk through chinks that looked small for a -donkey-cart to pass, and showing an agility in dodging -that would have done credit to a hare. It rocked -on its triumphal way westward: past the crouching -stone lions in Trafalgar Square, where the plinth of the -Nelson Column blazed with recruiting posters; past -the “Orient” offices, with their big pictures of Australian-going -steamers—which made Norah sigh; and -so up to Piccadilly Circus, where they found themselves -packed into a jam of traffic so tight that it seemed that -it could never disentangle. But presently it melted -away, and they went on round the stately curve of -Regent Street, with its glittering shops; and so home to -the hotel—where they had lived so long that it really -seemed almost home—and to their own sitting-room, -gay with daffodils and primroses, and littered with -work. Norah’s knitting—khaki socks and mufflers—lay -here and there, and there was a pile of finished -articles awaiting dispatch to the Red Cross headquarters -in the morning. Under the window, a big, -workmanlike deal table was littered with scraps of -wood, curiously fashioned, with tools in a neat rack. -It was David Linton’s workshop; all the time he -could spare from helping with wounded soldiers went -to the fashioning of splints and crutches for the hospitals, -where so many were needed every day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A yellow envelope was on the table now, lying across -a splint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Duke of Clarence Hospital,” it said; “to-morrow -afternoon.—<span class='sc'>Jim.</span>”</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo30.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“She put out a hand and clung to her father’s coat.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab4' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab4c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab4c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page 31</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='ch3'>CHAPTER III<br/> <span class='sub-head'>WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“Oh! the spring is here again, and all the ways are fair.</p> -<p class='line0'>The wattle-blossom’s out again, and do you know it there?”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Margery Ruth Betts.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>‟T</span>HEY’RE doing quite well,” the doctor said, -patting Norah benevolently on the shoulder. -He was a plump little man, always busy, always in a -hurry; but David Linton and his daughter had been -regular visitors to the hospital for some time, and he -had a regard for them. (“Sensible people,” he was -wont to say, approvingly: “they don’t talk too much -to patients, and they don’t fuss!”) Now he knew -that war had hit them personally, and he gave them -two of his few spare minutes. “They’re tired, of -course; and you must expect to see them looking -queer. Gas isn’t a beautifier. But they’ll be all -right. Don’t stay too long. Don’t talk war, if you -can keep them off it. And above all, don’t speak -about gas.” He smiled at them both. “Buck them -up, Miss Norah—buck them up!” Some one called -him hurriedly, and he fled. The khaki ambulances -had delivered a heavy load at the hospital that day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a little room off a quiet corridor, the scent of -golden wattle flung a breath of Australia to greet -them, as it had greeted the tired boys when the orderlies -had carried them in hours before. Jim and Wally -smiled at them from their pillows. No one seemed -able to say anything. Afterwards, Norah had a dim -idea that she had kissed Wally as well as Jim. It -did not appear to matter greatly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were white-faced boys, with black shadows -under their eyes; but the old merriment was there. -A great wave of relief swept over Norah and her father. -They had feared they knew not what from this evil -choking enemy: it was sudden happiness to see that -their boys were not so unlike their old selves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had visions of being up to meet you,” said -Jim, keeping a hand on Norah’s, as she perched on -his bed. “But the doctor thought otherwise. -Doctors are awful tyrants.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had a good crossing?” David Linton found -words hard—they stuck in his throat as he looked -at his son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh yes. We didn’t know much about it. The -hospital train runs you almost on to the ship, and the -orderlies have you in a swinging cot before you know -where you are. Same at the other side: those fellows -do know their job,” Jim said, admiringly. “Of -course, you get a little tired of being handled, towards -the finish, and this room—and bed—seemed awfully -good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the wattle was ripping,” said Wally. “However -did you manage to get it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It comes from the South of France,” Norah answered. -“There’s quite a lot of it in London; only -they stare at you if you ask for ‘wattle’, and you have -to learn to say ‘mimosa.’ One gets broken into anything. -I’ve learned to say ‘field’ quite naturally -when I’m talking of a paddock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish Murty could hear you,” said Wally solemnly. -Murty O’Toole was head stockman on Billabong, the -home in Australia. He was a very great friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t you picture his face!” Norah uttered. “It -would be interesting to watch Murty’s expression if -dad told him to bring in the cattle from the field when -he wanted the bullocks mustered in the home-paddock!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d give me notice,” said Mr. Linton, firmly. -“Neither long service nor affection would keep him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Murty was born in Ireland, though he did -come out to Australia when he was a small boy,” Norah -said. “So he ought not to feel astonished. But the -person I do want to import to England is black Billy. -It’s part of Billy’s principles not to show amazement -at anything, but I don’t think they’d be proof against -a block of traffic in Piccadilly!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d only say, ‘Plenty!’ ” said Jim, laughing—“that -is, if he had any speech left. Poor old Billy, -he hates everything but horses, and any motor is a -‘devil-wagon’ to him. A fleet of big red and yellow -’buses would give him nervous prostration.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s one thing that would scare him more,” -Mr. Linton said. “Do you remember the day last -winter when we took Norah to Hampton Court, and -you chucked a stone at the Round Pond?” He -laughed, and every one followed his example.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the stone ran along tinkling over the top of -the water,” said Norah, recovering. “I never was -so taken aback in my life. And all the small children -and their nursemaids laughed at me. How was I to -know water turned to ice like that? The only frozen -thing I had ever seen was ice-cream in Melbourne!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Billy never saw ice in his life,” said her father. -“He would have thought it very bad magic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d have taken to his heels and made for the -bush,” said Wally, grinning. “Probably he’d have -made himself a boomerang and turned into an up-to-date -black Robin Hood, living on those tame old -Bushy Park deer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With his headquarters in the Hampton Court -Maze!” added Jim. “Wouldn’t it have been an -enormous attraction—the halfpenny papers would have -called it ‘Wild Life in Quiet Places,’ and London -would have run special motor-bus trips to see our -Billy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His laugh ended in a fit of coughing, which left -him trembling. Norah patted him anxiously, watching -him with troubled eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you talk too much, or we’ll get sent away,” -she warned him. “We’ll do the talking—dad and I. -We’ve heaps to tell you: and such jolly plans.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have to make haste and get better,” said -Mr. Linton, looking from one white face to the other. -“Then we’re going to take possession of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kitchener will do that, I guess,” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Kitchener won—not until you’re quite fit. -You’ll be handed over to us, and it will be our job -to get you thoroughly well. And Norah and I have -agreed that it can’t be done in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So we’re all going to Ireland,” said Norah, happily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ireland!” Jim uttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. You’re sure to get leave, so that you can -be thoroughly repaired. We’re going to find some -jolly place in Donegal, where it’s quiet and peaceful, -and we’re all going to buy rods and find out how to -catch trout. Brown trout,” said Norah, learnedly. -“We know all about it, because we bought ever so -many guide-books and studied them all last night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say!” ejaculated both patients as one man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It sounds rather like Heaven,” said Jim, drawing -a long breath. “Do you really think it can be managed, -dad?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see why not,” said his father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must get back to our job as soon as we can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly you must. But there’s no sense in your -going back until you are perfectly fit. They wouldn’t -want you. And though you were not as badly gassed -as many—thank goodness!—and your recovery won’t -be such a trying matter as if you had had a bigger dose, -every one agrees that gas takes its time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shouldn’t wonder,” Jim said, grimly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That being so, London does not strike me as a -good place for convalescents,” said Mr. Linton. “Pure -air is what you’ll need; and that is not the fine, solid, -grey variety of atmosphere you get here. And Zeppelins -will be happening along freely, once they feel at -home on the track to England. I don’t believe they -will limit their raids to London. The big manufacturing -towns will come in for a share of their attention -sooner or later; and they won’t spare the country places -over which they fly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not they!” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So, all things considered, I think you would be -better in Ireland. I believe it’s peaceful there, if -you don’t talk politics. We don’t want any adventures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve had quite enough since we left Billabong,” -said Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hear, hear!” said Wally. “I guess the calm -peace of a bog in Ireland is just about our form until -we’re ready to go back and take our turn at strafing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then that’s settled—if the doctors will back me -up,” Mr. Linton said. “Just as soon as they will let -you we’ll pack up the fewest possible clothes and set -out for a sleepy holiday in Ireland: trout-fishing, old -ruins, bogs, heather, and no adventures at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Later on, they were to recall this peaceful forecast -with amazement. At present it seemed a -dream of everything the heart could desire; they -fell into a happy discussion of ways and means, of the -best places to buy fishing-tackle, of the clothes demanded -by bogs and heathery mountains; until a -nurse arrived with tea, and a warning word that the -patients had talked nearly enough. At which the -patients waxed indignant, declaring that their visitors -had only been with them about ten minutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten minutes!” said the nurse, round-eyed. -“Over an hour—and doctor’s orders were——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never you mind the doctor’s orders,” Jim said -solemnly. “Doctors don’t know everything. Why, -in Boulogne——” He broke off, assuming an air of -meek unconsciousness of debate as the doctor himself -appeared suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, transfixing -patients with an eagle glance, while the nurse -made an unobtrusive escape. “You were saying -something about doctors, I think?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing, I assure you, sir,” said Jim, grinning -widely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doctors—and Boulogne,” repeated the new-comer, -firmly. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir. Certainly not,” said Jim. “The doctors -in Boulogne are very hard-worked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“H’m!” said his medical attendant, receiving this -piece of information with the suspicion it merited. -“Quite so. We’re all hard-worked, these times, -chiefly with looking after bad boys who ought to be -back at school, getting swished. It’s an awful fate for -a respectable M.D.” He gazed severely at the cheerful -faces on the pillows. “You ought to be asleep; and -of course you are not. Is this a hospital ward, or an -Australian picnic?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Both,” said Wally, laughing. “Don’t be -rough on us, doctor; it isn’t every day we kill a -pig!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The doctor stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You put things pleasantly!” he said. “It seems -to me that the pigs were trying to kill you: but you’re -all extraordinarily cheerful about it. Now, where’s -Miss Norah gone? I never saw such a girl—she moves -like quicksilver!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah returned, bearing a spare cup.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do have some tea, doctor,” she begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t time, but I will,” said the doctor, abandoning -professional cares, and sitting down. “One’s -life is all topsy-turvy nowadays. A year ago I would -not have dreamed of having tea in a patient’s bedroom—let -alone two patients—but then, a year ago I -was practising in Harley Street, developing a sweet, -bedside manner and the figure of an alderman. Today -I’m a semi-military hack, with no manner at all, -and my patients chaff me—actually chaff me, Miss -Norah! It’s very distressing to one’s inherited -notions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be,” said Norah, deeply sympathetic. -“The cake is quite good, doctor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is,” agreed the doctor, accepting some. “Occasionally -I find a pompous old colonel or brigadier among -my patients, and we exchange soothing confidences -about the terrible future of the medical profession -and the Army. That helps; but then I come back to -the long procession of the foolish subalterns who go -out to Flanders without ever having learned to -dodge!” His eye twinkled as he glared at Jim and -Wally. Norah, whose visits to wounded soldiers -during many weeks had taught her something beyond -his reputation as the most skilful and most merciful -of surgeons, listened unmoved and offered him more -tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s no good trying to impress you!” said the -doctor, surrendering his cup. “Thank you, I will -have some more—in pure kindness of heart towards -you, Miss Norah, since, when I leave this room, all -visitors go with me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!” said Norah. “I’ll get some fresh tea, -doctor!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will not,” said the doctor, severely. “The -picnic is nearly at an end: you can have another -to-morrow, if you’re good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When can we remove the patients, doctor?” -asked Mr. Linton, who had been sitting in amused -silence. A great contentment had settled on his face: -already the lines of anxiety were smoothed away. He -did not want to talk; it was sufficient to sit and watch -Jim, occasionally meeting his eyes with a half-smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remove the patients—Good gracious!” ejaculated -the doctor. “Why they’ve only just been removed -once! Can’t you let them settle down a -little?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We want to take them to Ireland,” said Norah, -eagerly. “Can we, doctor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” said the doctor, reflectively. “There might -be worse plans. We’ll see. Ireland: that’s the place -where the motto is, ‘When you see a head, hit it!’ -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it’s universal,” said Mr. Linton -mildly. “It’s really much more peaceful than English -legends would lead you to believe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Between you and me, what the average Englishmen -knows of Ireland might, I believe, he put into one’s -eye without inconvenience,” affirmed the doctor. -“I’m a Scot, and I don’t mind admitting I don’t know -anything. But no Englishman tells an Irish story -without making his speakers say ‘Bedad!’ and -‘Begorra!’ in turn: and I’ve known a heap of -Irishmen, and their conversation was singularly free -from those remarks. I have an inward conviction -that the English-made Irishman doesn’t exist; only -I never have time to verify any of my inward convictions. -And perhaps that’s as well, because then they -never lose weight! Have I drunk all the tea, Miss -Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid so,” said Norah, tilting the teapot -regretfully and without success. “Do let me get -you some more. I know quite well where they make -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to!” said the doctor, rising. “Don’t tempt -an honest man from the path of duty. I’m off—and I -give you three minutes. Then the patients are to -compose themselves to slumber.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Ireland, doctor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ireland?” said the doctor, pausing in the doorway. -“Oh, there’s lots of time to think about that -distressful country.” He relented a little, looking at -the eager faces. “Very possibly. We’ll re-open the -discussion this day week. Three minutes, mind. -Good-bye.” His quick steps died away along the -corridor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Half an hour later Wally wriggled on his pillow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Asleep, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—not quite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“D’you know something? Your people were here -quite a while. And they never said one word about -gas or war or any silly rot like that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Jim, drowsily. “Bricks, weren’t they? -Go to sleep.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch4'>CHAPTER IV<br/> <span class='sub-head'>TO IRELAND</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,</p> -<p class='line0'>Hills of home.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>R. L. Stevenson.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>H</span>OLYHEAD pier was in the state of wild turmoil -that seethes between the arrival of the -mail and its transhipping to the Dublin boat. Passengers -ran hither and thither, distractedly seeking -luggage, while stolid English porters lent a deaf ear -to their complainings or assured them absent-mindedly -that everything would be all right on the other side; -an assurance always given light-heartedly by the -porter who is comfortably certain of the fact that, -whatever happens on the other side, he will not be -there. First and third class passengers mingled -inextricably in the luggage-hunt, with equal lack of -success, and divided into two streams when the whistle -blew an impatient summons, seeking their respective -gangways under the guiding shouts of officials on the -upper deck. Through the crowd ploughed the mail -trollies, regarding first and third class travellers alike -as mere obstructors of His Majesty’s business, and -asserting their right-of-way by sheer weight and -impetus. Overhead, a grey sky hung darkly, and was -reflected in a grey, white-flecked sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not the usual Ireland-bound crowd of early -summer. Comparatively few women were travelling, -and except for a few elderly men, there was an entire -absence of the knickerbocker-suited, tweed-capped -travellers, with golf-clubs and rod-boxes, who make a -yearly pilgrimage across the Irish Sea. Most of them -were in Flanders or Gallipoli now, and khaki had -replaced the rough tweeds; many would never come -again. In their stead, khaki sprinkled the crowd -thickly. A big detachment of soldiers returning after -furlough, crowded the boat for’ard. Officers in heavy -great-coats were everywhere; one chubby subaltern -in charge of a regimental band, which had been assisting -in a recruiting tour in Wales. A small group surrounded -a tall old general, whose great-coat showed -the crossed sword and baton, while his gold-laced and -red-banded cap made him the object of awed glances -from junior officers, who forthwith put as much of -the ship as possible between themselves and his eagle -eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim Linton and Wally Meadows were among the -first out of the train. It was Jim’s way to let a crowd -disperse a little before he attempted to reach a given -point. “You get there just as quickly, and it saves -an awful lot of pushing and shoving,” he said. But -Wally’s impatience never brooked any such delay; at -all times he found it difficult to sit still, and once movement -was permitted him, he was wont, as Jim further -said, “to run three ways at once.” Therefore, Jim -being too peaceably inclined to argue the matter, they -made a hurried descent to the platform, collected -hand-luggage hastily, discovered a porter, assisted -Mr. Linton and Norah to alight, and had marshalled -their forces on the upper deck of the steamer while yet -the main body of the passengers strove agonizedly to -find their belongings. Then Jim made a leisurely -inspection, discovered their heavy luggage in perfect -safety, duly embarked: and rejoined his party with -the calm certainty of all being right with the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>People were disposing themselves after the varied -fashion of ’cross-Channel passengers. Apprehensive -ladies and a few men cast a despondent look at the -grey sea and the white horses tumbling off-shore, and -prudently sought the shelter of the cabins, hoping, by -prompt lying down, to cheat the demon of sea-sickness. -More seasoned travellers selected chairs on the main -decks, pitched them where any gleams of sun might -reach them, and settled down, rolled in rugs, to read -through the boredom of the passage. On the railings, -small boys perched themselves with the fell determination -of small boys all the world over, while anxious -mothers rent the air with fruitless appeals for them to -come down, and wrathful fathers emphasized the -commands with blows, or else smoked stolidly in the -conviction that a small boy who was meant to fall in -the sea would certainly fall there, in spite of his parents. -Babies wailed dismally, until borne off to the cabin by -mothers and nurses; sirens rent the air with hoarse -shrieks; cranes, loading luggage, rattled and banged, -and above their din rose the shouts of newsboys -hawking London and Dublin papers. Every hand on -the ship was working furiously, for the mail has no -time to spare, and nothing matters to it but the time-table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were off presently, slipping away almost -imperceptibly from the wharf, and nosing out to sea -through the grey waves. The ship thrust her bow -into them doggedly. The mail-boat’s line is a straight -line, and she takes no account of the foaming billows -and the anguish of passengers, thrusting through -everything from port to port. Several people who -had settled down on deck more in hope than certainty -cast sad glances on the sea, and disappeared hurriedly -below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim and Wally turned up their coat-collars as the -breeze freshened, and stood swaying easily to the -motion of the ship. They still bore traces of the -ordeal they had undergone in the trenches; each -was unnaturally pale and heavy-eyed, and recurring -attacks of throat-trouble had kept them from regaining -full strength. Wally’s eyes, too, were weak: he was -under orders to rest them altogether, and was therefore -openly jubilant because he could not read war news—which, -as he said, was one of the most wearying occupations, -only you couldn’t cease doing it without a -decent excuse. “Vetted” by a Medical Board, the -pair had been given six weeks’ leave, at the end of -which time they were to report progress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the nerve-disorder which so frequently follows -in the track of gas-poisoning they were fortunately -entirely free. Possibly their dose had not been large -enough: or their clean youth and perfect health had -helped them to throw off the effects felt heavily by -older men. They could joke about it now, and their -longing to get “some of their own back” was so keen -as almost to discount an Irish holiday. Still, war -was likely to last long enough to give them all the -fighting they needed: there was, after all, no immediate -hurry. And it was glorious to feel strength returning: -and the new fishing-rods and tackle bore fascinating -promise, while Ireland itself was a country of -their dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for Mr. Linton and Norah, they looked after the -boys unceasingly, fed them at alarmingly short intervals, -and in general manifested so subservient a desire to -run all their errands that the victims revolted, declaring -they were patients no longer, and threatening severe -measures if they were not restored to independence. -Norah and her father submitted unwillingly. To -nurse trench-worn warriors had the double effect of -being in itself comforting, while, so long as the nursing -lasted, the warriors could not possibly consider returning -to the trenches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They looked about them as the swift steamer raced -westward. Soldiers, soldiers everywhere; every likely -youngster was in uniform, and there were many older -men whose keen, quiet faces bore the ineffaceable -stamp of the regular officer of the old Army—the old -Army that was gone for ever, only a fragment left -after the first fierce onslaught of war. The men for’ard -were laughing and singing, just as they laughed and -sang in the trenches; a cornet-player belonging to the -band had found his instrument and was leading the -tune. Near Norah, three or four nuns, sweet-faced -and grave, were seated, evidently enjoying the keen -wind that swept into their faces. There was the usual -sprinkling of passengers, some mere heaps of rugs in -deck-chairs, others walking briskly up and down. -Somewhat apart, a tall old priest stood by the rail, -looking ahead: a gaunt old man with burning, dark -eyes, that searched the grey sea and sky wistfully, as -if looking for the land to which they were hastening. -Jim, strolling backwards and forwards, came presently -to a standstill near him, and asked a question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know what time we get in, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis about three hours, I believe—that or less,” -said the old man, courteously. He turned a steady -glance on Jim, and apparently approved of him, for -he smiled. “Do you not know Ireland, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim shook his head. “It’s my first visit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So?” The old eyes looked ahead once more. -“They take under three hours now to cross; ’twas -many more last time I came away—the bitter day!” -he added, half under his breath. “And that’s three-and-forty -years ago, my son!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What! and you’ve never been back, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never. I’ve been in America. A good country; -but it never lets you go, and it never gets to be home. -All that three-and-forty years I’ve been thinking of -the day I’d be going back again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it’s come,” said Jim, his smile suddenly -lighting his grey eyes. The old man smiled back</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you weren’t so young I’d say you knew what -it was to be homesick,” said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I come from Australia,” said Jim, briefly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, well!” the priest said. “There’s -another great country—only so far away. There’s -many a good Irishman there, they tell me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Any number of them,” said Jim. “We’ve got -one of the best on our place—Murty O’Toole. He -taught me to ride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he so? There were O’Tooles in Wicklow when -I was a boy; but sure and they’re all over the world. -You’ll be glad to go back, when the time comes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Glad!” said Jim, explosively. He laughed. -“It’s very jolly, of course, to visit other places. But -home’s home, isn’t it, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” said the old man. He looked ahead, his -eyes misty. “Three-and-forty years I’ve dreamed of -it; and now I’m waiting to see the hills of Ireland -coming out of the sea, and this last hour seems longer -than all the years. Well, well; and they’re all dead, -all the people I knew; and I going home to die, like a -wornout old dog.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll live in Ireland many a year yet, sir,” Jim -told him, quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no; I’m done. ’Tis my heart, and it finished—sure, -wouldn’t forty years of work in New York finish -any heart!” said the old man, laughing. “But I’m -lucky to be getting back to Ireland to die. Did you -ever hear, now, of the Sons of Tuireann?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were great fighting men, and they had great -hardship,” said the priest: “and at the end of all -things they were on the sea coming home, dying. And -one of them cried out that he saw the hills of home. -And the others said, ‘Raise up our heads on your -breast till we see Ireland again: and life or death will -be the same to us after that.’ So they died. That -was a good ending. A man wouldn’t ask better. -’Tis a hard thing, dying in a strange country, but you’d -go very easy, once you got home.” He spoke half to -himself, so low that the boy hardly caught the words. -They stood silently for awhile, looking ahead across -the tumbling sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had no right to be talking to you about dying,” -the old priest said presently, turning to Jim with a -smile that made his face extraordinarily child-like. -“Old men get foolish; and my heart’s too big for my -body this day, and I getting home. Tell me now—are -ye Irish, at all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My mother was Irish,” Jim answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d have said so. What part might she have come -from?—and is she with you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She died when I was a kiddie,” Jim answered. -“She came from Donegal. Father says she always -loved it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well! Wherever you’re born, you love -that place. But I think the love for Ireland is beyond -most things. The people leave it because there’s no -room for them and no money; but no matter where -they go they leave the half of their hearts behind. -And they put something of the love into their children -no matter where they’re born, so that they always want -to come and see Ireland: and when they come, ’tis no -strange place to them; they feel they’ve come home. -You’ll feel it—for all that you love that big young -country of yours, and want to get back to her. But -every old ruin, and every bit of brown bog and heathery -mountain, and every little stony field, will say something -to you that you will not be able to put into words: -and when you go back you will not forget. There, -there! I’m talking again!” said the old man; “and -to a boy with business of his own. Tell me, now, have -you been out across yonder yet?” He nodded in the -direction of Flanders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They talked of war, the priest nodding vehemently -and punctuating Jim’s brief sentences with exclamations -of “Well, well!” The wistfulness dropped from -him suddenly; he was a fighting man, a Crusader—with -a young man’s burning desire to be out in the -trenches, and a young man’s keenness to hear details -of battle. “There’s fifty thousand French priests -fighting for France,” he said, enviously: “none the -worse soldiers for being priests, I’ll vow, and they’ll -be all the better priests afterwards for having been -soldiers! If I were young! if I were young!” He -laughed at his own vehemence. “It’s your day,” he -said; “a great world just now for young men. And -they tell me there’s any number of them out of khaki -yet—standing behind counters and selling lace and -ribbons; and some of them doing women’s -hair! More shame for the women that let -them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If a man wants to stay out of the game and do -women’s work, well that’s all he’s fit for,” said Jim, -slowly. “He’s not wanted where there’s work going. -But he ought to have some sort of a brand put on him, -so that people will be able to tell him from a man in -future!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The priest chuckled appreciatively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Petticoats are the brand he wants,” said he. -“And an extra tax put on him, to support the widows -and children of the men who were men—who went -and fought to save his worthless hide. ’Tis a shame, -now, they wouldn’t make him pay some way. Well, -they wouldn’t have me in the trenches—and it’s good -sense they have; but for all I’m a broken-down old -ruin I’m going fighting—fighting with my tongue -against the boys that stay at home. Perhaps they -don’t realize—the young ones: they might listen to -an old man that was a priest. Just a few days to rest -and feel I’m home at last, and I’m going to do my bit -as a recruiting sergeant!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good luck!” Jim said, heartily. “Only don’t -get knocked up, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old man laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis only once a man can die,” he said, cheerfully. -“I’d die easier knowing I’d done my bit, as you boys -say. But I’m in dread I’ll lose my temper with them, -especially if I meet the lads that dress heads of hair! -They wash them too, I’m told. Well, well, it’s a queer -world!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally came up, faintly indignant at Jim’s lengthy -absence, and joined in the talk: and presently Mr. -Linton and Norah followed, and made friends with the -old man. He was such a simple, cheery old man: it -was easy to be friends with him. They grew merry -over queer stories from many countries, and often the -priest’s laugh rang out like a boy’s, while his own -stories brought peals of mirth from his new friends. -But through it all his dark eyes kept searching ahead: -ever looking, looking till the hills of Ireland should -lift from the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They tell me you have big trees in that Australia -of yours,” he said. “Tell me now, are they as big as -the Califorian redwoods?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know the redwoods,” Wally answered -solemnly. “But ours are big. There’s a story of -twelve men who started with axes and cross-cut saws -to get a gum-tree down. They worked on one side for -nine months and then they got bored with that, and -they packed up and made a journey round to the -other side. And there they found a party of fifteen -men who’d been working at that side for a year, and -they were very surprised——” Laughter overcame -him suddenly at the sight of the priest’s amazed face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You young rascal!” said he, joining in the laugh -against himself. “And I taking it all in so meekly!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might go on, if you liked, sir, and tell you the -story of the man who was out in the bush bringing -home some calves,” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t spare me,” begged his hearer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he found his way blocked by a fallen tree, -too big to get the calves over. So he started to drive -them along it, to get round. When he didn’t come -home they came to the conclusion that he had stolen -the calves; and so they had to apologize to him, later -on, when he turned up with a nice lot of bullocks. -He said proudly that he hadn’t lost one, only they had -grown up while they were on the journey!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was a long tree!” said the priest, between -chuckles. “Well, well, it must be a great country -that will grow such timber—and such stories, and the -boys to tell them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ought to beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “Only -no good Australian can resist telling tall stories about -his tall trees. But I can tell you a true one of a tree -I knew where seven men camped in the hollow butt. -They had bunks built inside, all round it, and a table -in the middle, and of course, space for a doorway. -That tree was over fifty-five feet inside, and goodness -only knows what it was outside, buttresses and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it’s true, I suppose, that you could drive a -coach-and-four through a tree?” the priest asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Driving a coach-and-four through the hollowed-out -stump of a tree used to be common enough with us,” -said Jim. “Not that the four horses mattered: you -might as well say ‘and twelve’; it was the width high -enough up to take the top of the coach that meant a -really big tree. It was easier to make a hollow shell -fit for the passage of the coach than to get the whole -tree cut down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite so—quite so,” said the priest. “And I’ve -read of church services being held in a hollow tree, in -your country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather. We know one that held twenty-two -people. It was in a wild part of the bush, and whatever -clergyman came along used to use it—Roman -Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian or Baptist; it -didn’t matter. Every one used to roll up, for it wasn’t -often there was a chance of a church service. There -were lots of jobs for the travelling parson, too: all -the accumulated weddings and christenings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you tell me!” said the priest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My mother had three children before ever a chance -came of a baptism,” said Mr. Linton. “Then the -three were done together. I was the eldest, and I -remember being extremely indignant about it—I was -four years old, and it was winter, and the water was -cold! It was a standing joke against me afterwards -that I had behaved so much worse than my small -brother and sister.” He laughed, and then grew -grave. “Poor bush mothers! they didn’t have an -easy time. Two of my mother’s babies died without -ever having seen a clergyman; to the end of her life -she worried about the little souls that had gone out -unbaptized.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was themselves needed great hearts—those -pioneer women,” said the priest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They did; and mostly they had great hearts. -But then I think most women have, if the need really -comes,” Mr. Linton said. “Thousands of them were -delicate, tenderly-reared women, with no experience -of bush conditions in a new country; but they made -good. Women have a curious way of finding themselves -able to tackle any conditions with which they -are actually faced. My mother never was strong, and -she had no training for work; I expect she was something -of a butterfly until she married my father and -went off into the Never-Never. She ended by being -a kind of oracle for fifty miles round; people used to -send for her at all hours of the day or night, in sickness, -and she developed a business capacity better -than my father’s. I remember her as a little, merry -thing: always tired, but never too tired to work for -other people. She was only one of thousands of women -doing the same thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the process of learning must have been hard,” -said the old priest, pityingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. It must have been a tough apprenticeship. -My mother told me she used to sit down and cry often -at the loneliness and strangeness of it all—in the long -days when all the men were miles away from the -homestead, and she was alone, with the chance of bush -fires and bushrangers and wild blacks. That was until -the babies came. After that there was no time to -cry—which, she said, was a very good thing for her. -Poor little mother!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sighed; and in the silence that followed a slight -commotion was audible on the bridge. The priest -glanced up sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing—but that cruel business of the <span class='it'>Lusitania</span> -makes everyone suspicious at sea, nowadays,” he said. -“Still, the Germans may be active enough in the -south, but I don’t fancy they’ll come into these landlocked -waters. Too much risk from our destroyers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah was leaning over the rail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that thing?” she said, slowly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their eyes followed the direction of her pointing -finger. Nearly astern, a slender grey object bobbed -among the waves: so small a thing that an idle glance -might easily have passed it by unnoticed. A shadowy, -grey bar, bearing aloft what looked like a nut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim uttered a shout.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By Jove, it’s a submarine!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even as he shouted, a long grey shadow came into -view under the bar. Simultaneously, the engine-telegraph -clanged from the bridge, and following the -signal, the steamer altered her course with a jerk that -sent most of the standing passengers headlong to the -deck. They picked themselves up, unconscious of -bruises, rushing again to the rail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The submarine was well in view—a slender, vicious, -grey boat, with a little cluster of men visible on her -tiny deck, round the shaft of the periscope. She was -terribly near. Suddenly a volume of black smoke -gushed from the steamer’s funnels; the firemen were -flinging themselves at their work below, since on speed -alone hung their slender hope of safety. Again she -altered her course. Sharp orders came from the -bridge; sailors were running to and fro, and an -officer was serving out life-belts frantically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something shot from the submarine—something -that made a long, glistening streak across the water, -coming straight towards them like a flash; and David -Linton flung his arm round Norah muttering, “My -God!” A strained, high voice cried, “A torpedo!” -and then silence fell upon the ship, broken only by -the smothered gasps of women. Straight and swift -the streak came; unimaginably swift, and yet the -watching seemed a lifetime.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold tight to the rail,” Jim’s voice said in Norah’s -ear. She gripped mechanically; and as she did so, -the steamer jerked again, plunging to one side like a -frightened horse that sees danger. It was just in -time. The torpedo shot past, missing the bow by a -fraction—a space so small that it was almost impossible -to believe that it had indeed missed. Then came -relief, finding vent in an irrepressible shout.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s too soon to shout,” some one said. “She’ll -make better shooting next time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Stewards and sailors were hurrying round, distributing -life-belts; it was no easy matter to put them on, -for the ship was zigzagging wildly, dodging in a -desperate effort to elude her pursuer, and balance was -impossible without a firm hold on some fixed object.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit on the deck—it’s safest,” said Mr. Linton. He -fastened Norah’s life-belt, while Jim performed a -similar office for him, and Wally put one on the old -priest, who was so wild with excitement as to be quite -oblivious of any such precaution. His face was -deadly white, his dark eyes blazing. In his first fall -he had lost his black felt hat, and his silver hair waved -in the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The murdering villains—the assassins!” he said. -“Yerra, if I could fight!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An officer called for helpers to bring the women and -children from below. Jim and Wally sprang in -answer, and a crowd of soldiers came tumbling up from -for’ard, elbowing their officers in mad excitement and -the rush to be first. Quick and strong hands were -needed on the companion ladders with their burdens, -as the ship plunged hither and thither, racing in zig-zags -at top speed. Many of the women were helpless -between fear and the aftermath of sea-sickness; but -they came without outcry, with set white faces, -determined, if this were indeed Death, to die decently. -The babies howled with a lusty disregard of the world -common to babies, while the soldiers patted them -with far more concern than they showed for the submarine. -In a very few minutes not a soul was left -below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do we zigzag?” Norah asked, clinging to -the rail as a fresh jerk shook the ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s our only chance,” Jim answered. “I don’t -think the submarines can beat these boats for speed, -or else she’d just come up and sink us at her leisure; -and she can’t take aim accurately if we’re dodging. -Of course we cut down our speed by not going straight; -but we can’t afford the risk of letting her train her -torpedo-tube carefully on us. Jove, can’t the skipper -handle this ship! She answers the helm like a motor-car.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And can’t she go!” uttered Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, the mail-boats are built for speed and not much -else—thank goodness!” Jim said. “Look!—she’s -firing again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the streak shot from the pursuing submarine -and darted towards them. They held their breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a very close shave—only a lightning swerve -saved the mail-boat. The old priest uttered a sudden -shout of triumph. “Whirroo!” he cried—for a -moment just the boy who had left Wicklow more than -forty years ago. He shook as he gripped the rail, -laughing at the racing grey shadow that followed them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim Linton’s eyes were on his little sister: and -Norah, feeling them, slipped a hand into his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it hadn’t been for us you wouldn’t be in this,” -he said, miserably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah opened her eyes in amazement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But that just makes it not matter so much,” she -said. “Just fancy if we weren’t all together! Don’t -you worry, Jimmy.” She smiled at him very cheerfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If she hits us and we begin to sink, don’t wait for -the ship to go over,” Mr. Linton said. “Half the -boats on the <span class='it'>Lusitania</span> were death-traps. Let us all -jump in and keep together if we can; we would have -more chance of being picked up, and less of being -taken down in the suction as she sank. Can you -swim, Father?”—to the priest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can. But it’s years since I tried, and I don’t -know would I keep afloat at all,” said the old man, -with unimpaired cheerfulness. “Let you take your -own course, and not trouble about me. I’m too old -to try jumping, and there’ll be some poor souls I could -maybe help. And we’re not beaten yet.” He gave a -quick laugh, his grey head well up. “We’re running -away, but it’s a good fight we’re putting up, all the -same: something to see, after forty years in a New -York slum!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe he likes it!” said Wally, under his breath. -But the old man caught the words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like it! I used to dream of adventures when I -was a boy, and it was all the sea—clean winds and -waves, and ships that were always magic to me. And -it ended in a slum: forty years of it, doing my work in -the midst of filth and wretchedness. Well, every man -has his work, and mine lay there. And now, at the -end, this! I always knew ’twas luck I’d have if I got -back to Ireland!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had raced away in a straight course after the -second torpedo, increasing the distance from their -pursuer. Now, however, a shot hummed past them, -and the captain dared no longer risk a hit—again the -ship swerved from side to side, in short, irregular tacks, -and the submarine drew nearer once more. On and -on—leaping like a hare when the greyhound is behind -her: engines throbbing, smoke blackening the sky in -her wake. Some of the firemen had staggered up, -exhausted, their places taken by volunteers. Ahead, -a dim line lay upon the sea: the Irish coast, where lay -safety. Would they ever reach it?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, from the north, came rescue: a patrol-boat, -racing down upon them with threatening guns ready -to speak in their defence. She came out of a light -haze, which, blowing away, revealed her dogged grey -shape, with the white water churning and parting at -her bow. Presently one of her guns spoke, and a -shell buried itself in the sea not far from the submarine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So long, Brother Boche!” said an officer; and -suddenly, as if in answer, the submarine disappeared, -submerging to the safety of the underworld. The -mail-boat ceased to zigzag, running a straight course -until near the destroyer, as a child runs to a protector.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The tension relaxed. Voices broke out in quick -clamour: and then cheer after cheer came from the -pent-up passengers, redoubling as the captain’s face -showed over the railings of the bridge. The captain -grinned, saluted, and looked at his watch all at once: -the danger was over, and now the pressing business of -his ordinary life reasserted itself—the landing in time -at Kingstown Pier of His Majesty’s mails.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>People were laughing and talking nervously, keeping -an anxious look-out towards the spot where the submarine -had disappeared; scarcely realizing that their -peril was past, and that the grey hunter would not -again reveal itself, hurrying upon their track. The -destroyer shot past them, seeking the enemy, with -signal flags talking busily to the mail-boat. A comforting -sense of security was in her wake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well!” said Jim. “We left England to find -peace and quiet; but if this is a specimen of what -Ireland means to give us——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d better get back to the peaceful marshes of -Flanders,” finished Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I used to think when I was at home—at Billabong—that -excitement would be nice,” said Norah. “But -it isn’t—not a bit: or else I’ve had an overdose. At -any rate, I don’t want any more as long as I live.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little sigh came from behind her, and her father -made a sudden movement, springing to the side of the -priest. The old man was swaying backwards and forwards. -They caught him, and laid him gently on the -deck. His lips parted, and he tried to speak, but no -sound came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go and look for a doctor,” said Mr. Linton to -Wally. “Quick!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He tore at the old man’s collar, while Norah rubbed -his hands desperately. It seemed the only thing she -could do. A little life came into the white face, and -his voice came faintly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis the finish for me—don’t worry . . . my -heart.” He smiled at them. “And the doctor after -telling me not to get excited.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t talk,” Norah begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It can’t hurt me. Don’t mind, little one.” He -saw the tears in her eyes, and tightened his hand on her -fingers. “ ’Tis a good ending. I wouldn’t ask for a -better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally came back, a young man in uniform, with the -R.A.M.C. badge on his collar, at his heels. The doctor -bent over the old priest. Presently he rose, shaking -his head as he met David Linton’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing to be done,” he said, softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old man’s hearing was no less acute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis myself could have told you that,” he said. -“I knew . . . next time it came. And . . . when -a man’s ready . . .”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice became almost inaudible, murmuring -broken words of prayer. Behind them Jim had -formed a line of soldiers, keeping off the curious -crowd. Presently he spoke again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s easy, dying. Only it would be easier if I’d -seen it again . . . Ireland.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re very near,” Norah told him, pityingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Near! And not to see it!” He tried to -rise, helplessly. “Ah, but let me look—let me -look!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David Linton’s eyes met the doctor’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It can’t hurt him,” whispered the doctor. “Nothing -can do that now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They lifted him, very gently. Ahead, the hills of -Wicklow were green and near. The grey sky had -broken, and a little shaft of sunlight stole out and lay -upon the coast. It was as though Ireland smiled to -welcome back her son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dark eyes looked long and wistfully. Once he -smiled at Norah; and then looked back quickly, as -though to lose no instant of home. Presently his lips -parted in broken words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Till we see . . . till we see Ireland again; and -life or death will be the same to us after that.” Then -no more words came. But when the doctor signed -to them to lay him down he was still smiling.</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch5'>CHAPTER V<br/> <span class='sub-head'>INTO DONEGAL</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“A homely-looking folk they are, these people of my kin;</p> -<p class='line0'>Their hands are hard as horse-shoes, but their hearts come through the skin.</p> -<p class='line0'>Old Michael Clancy said to me (his age is eighty-seven),</p> -<p class='line0'>‘There’s no place like Australia—barring Ireland and Heaven!’ ”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>V. J. Daley.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>‟W</span>E ought to be nearly there,” said Jim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Ought’ seems to be the last argument -that counts on this railway line,” his father answered. -“What grounds have you for your fond belief?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not time-tables,” his son admitted. “They -wore out long ago; I scrapped them when they got to -the stage when reading them only led to despair. -Partly I’m hoping that the guard wasn’t merely trying -to keep up my spirits when he told me we’d get to -Killard at three o’clock if Jamesy Doyle wasn’t late -with his milk-cans at Ballymoe; only he added that -’twas the bad little ass Jamesy had, and if it lay down -in the cart how would the poor man be in time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And will they wait for Jamesy and his cans?” -queried Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Most certainly, I should think. Passengers are -just odd happenings, to the guard; but Jamesy is -married to a woman that’s the cousin of his wife’s -aunt, and the guard evidently has a strong family -sense. This train exists as much to carry Jamesy’s -cans as anything else. However, there’s Ballymoe, -and the gentleman on the platform looks as if he might -be Jamesy. And there’s the ass in the cart outside, -standing up. I expect it’s all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little train drew slowly into the wayside station, -and the guard, descending, wrung the hand of the -somnolent gentleman enthroned upon the milk-cans. -Together they proceeded to load them into the van, -but being overcome by argument in the middle of the -operation, relinquished work, sat down on the cans, -and gave themselves up to the delights of conversation. -The Linton family got out, and walked along the -platform. They had been travelling from early morning -into the wilds of Donegal, and, since leaving the -main line for a succession of local trains, had grown -well accustomed to these sociable delays. Presently -the engine-driver and his fireman left their engine and -joined the discussion on the milk-cans. Norah strolled -to the road and scratched the ass gently, a proceeding -accepted by the ass without resentment, but without -enthusiasm. Time went by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gathering on the platform dissolved itself after -a while, the first move being made by Mr. Jamesy -Doyle, who remarked that his wife’d be tearing the -hair off of him, and she waiting for him for dinner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’ll not wait long on ye; I know that one!” -said the guard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will, then; sure, haven’t I it bought in the -little cart yonder?” said Jamesy, with the calmness -of certainty. He assisted to place the remainder of -his property in the van, and the guard, addressing -Norah with enormous politeness, mentioned that -when she was quite ready the train would go on. -“Let you not be hurrying yourself—sure we’re that -late already as makes no difference,” he added, pleasantly. -They climbed in, and the little train clanged -and rattled on its way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the next station two energetic men in tweed suits -descended hurriedly from the one first-class smoking-carriage -and demanded their bicycles, which had been -put in an empty truck—the train being of the type -known as a “mixed goods.” Thereafter arose sounds -of wrath and vituperation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something’s up; I’m going to see,” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They all went to see. The two cyclists, visions of -helpless rage, confronted a scene of desolation. The -truck, being opened, disclosed upon the floor a mingled -heap of scrap-iron and twisted metal, which had once -been two fair bicycles: in the midst of which, firmly -caught among the battered spokes, a couple of fat -wethers stood and bleated a woe almost equal to that -of the cyclists. A dozen more sheep, most of them -bearing traces of conflict with the defunct machines, -in the shape of scarred legs, pressed about the doorway, -while the guard, distraught to incoherence, endeavoured -to restrain them from escaping while attempting to -justify himself before the outraged owners. Totally -unsuccessful in the second endeavour, he was only -partially fortunate in the first: a black-faced sheep, -bearing a mudguard wedged upon his horns, made a -dash for freedom and fled wildly down the platform, -apparently maddened by his unfamiliar adornment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I after putting them in at one end of the -truck!” lamented the guard—“and them bikes -standing against the other end! Wasn’t there room -for them all—how would I know they’d mix up on -me! Get back there, bad luck to ye, ye vilyun!”—to -another black-faced aspirant for liberty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Helpers, divided in their sympathies, but with the -preponderance of feeling on the side of the guard, -appeared mysteriously from an apparently empty -landscape and disentangled the sheep from the ruins. -The engine-driver, cutting the Gordian knot of debate, -discovered that the time-table demanded that the -train should proceed forthwith; and the cyclists were -left foaming over a twisted heap on the platform, -threatening immediate telegrams to headquarters, -and, if necessary, murder. As the train slid away -from the sound of their lamentations, the fugitive sheep -could be descried standing on a bank, his black visage -melancholy beneath the mudguard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the next station, the guard, with a chastened face, -appeared at the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Killard, sir,” he stated. “And Patsy Burke, he -have the outside car and an ass-cart for ye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Linton and his party obeyed the summons -gladly. They found themselves on a grass-grown -platform, boasting very rudimentary station-buildings. -Beyond, a road ran east and west, bordered by high -banks, while on either side were small fields and wide, -flat stretches of bog. A long, thin man advanced to -meet them. No one else had left the train, and he -accepted them, without introduction, as his responsibility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The car is below in the road,” he said. “The -little horse, he have an objection to the train; he’d -lep a ditch sooner than face it. I’ll throw the luggage -on the ass-cart, sir, before I take you up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The guard, still subdued in spirit, was diligently -hauling out boxes from his van. A suit-case and the -rod-box, failing to appear, were made the objects of -fevered search, despaired of, promised by the next -train, and finally discovered in an empty third class -carriage, all within the space of five minutes. The -ass-cart, drawn by a dispirited donkey without energy -to disapprove of trains, was backed on to the platform, -and the luggage piled upon it in a tottery heap, secured—more -or less—by an assortment of knotted string and -old rope. Then the guard and engine-driver, both of -whom had assisted enthusiastically, bade an affectionate -farewell, and the train disappeared slowly, -while the Australians followed Patsy Burke meekly to -the outside car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dublin had already introduced them to the jaunting-car -of Ireland, and they had fallen instant victims to -the fascination of that most irresponsible vehicle. -English tourists are wont to regard it with fear and -trembling until familiar with its ways: to hold on -desperately, to sit stiffly, and, very frequently, to fall -off when rounding corners. That the Linton party -did none of these things was not due to any superior -intelligence on their parts, but merely to the fact that -the back-to-back position on the open-air cars of the -Melbourne tramways proved an excellent introduction -to the Irish vehicle—insomuch that the force of habit -was so strong in Wally that the Melbourne gripman’s -habitual ejaculation, “Hold <span class='it'>tight</span> round the curve!” -sprang unbidden to his lips every time the jarveys took -a corner on one wheel. The Dublin jarveys had liked -the cheery Australians, who paid well and frankly -averred that there was never any conveyance like the -jingling cars with their merry little bells, and their -good horses; and the jarveys of Dublin are a critical -race, with quick tongues and quicker wits. They had -confided to them their woes, which centred round -the introduction of motor-cars and the complete -indifference of pedestrians to the rule of the road—an -indifference universal throughout Ireland, where the -unseasoned traveller is perpetually a-shiver with dread -at threatened street tragedies, perpetually averted by -good luck that amounts to a miracle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never seen the equal of these people,” one of their -drivers had said, emitting a roar like a bull of Bashan, -which barely saved an elderly woman from what -looked like deliberate suicide under his horse’s hoofs. -“Yerra, ma’am, is it owning the road you are?”—to -the lady, who pursued her leisurely way with the -calmness born of many such episodes. “Young or -old, ’tis all the same; they do be strolling the streets -for all the world as if they was picking mushrooms, -and taking no notice of you till you’d be knocking them -down—and then they do be annoyed! There’s only -one way, and that is to let a roar out of you at them—and -then the look they give you is worse than a curse!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose you get into trouble if you kill more than -six a day,” Wally had said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The jarvey grinned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Trouble, is it? Sure, some of them makes a trade -of it; there’s them old wasters in this town that’d ask -nothing better than that you’d knock ’em down—not -to kill them, but to knock a small piece off them, the -way you’d have to support them afterwards. There’s -one man I but tipped with the end of a shaft, and he -strolling at his aise in a crowd. Crawling at a slow -walk I was; and what did he do but rowl on the -ground before me, letting on that he was kilt. There -was none of the polis about, so I left him rowling and -calling murder!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you hear any more of him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did. Didn’t he come to me that evening and -say he had his witnesses ready, and he’d be making a -polis-court matter of it if I didn’t give him five pounds? -‘I do be making twenty-eight shillings a week,’ says -he, ‘in me health,’ says he, and now ’tis the way I -cannot lift me hand to me head,’ he says. Him, that -never earned five shillings in a week in his life, and not -that, if he could steal it! I towld him to bring his -polis-court and his dirty witnesses, and that if he did, -I’d pay the five pounds for the pleasure I’d have in -belting the life out of him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And did he bring it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He did not. I seen him a week after that, and he -cleaning steps. ‘I’m glad to see you looking so well -and hearty, me poor man!’ says I to him; and he -thrun a look at me fit to kill. Sure I knew that one’d -be more anxious to keep out of the way of the polis -than to be dandhering about them with his cases!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Dublin cars had been smart affairs, spick-and-span -with bright paint and clean upholstering, every -buckle on their harness polished brightly. Their -rubber tyres strove to soften the asperities of cobbled -streets. But the car to which Patsy Burke led the -Australians was of a different aspect: small and forbidding, -with straight up-and-down seats whereon -reposed cushions from which the stuffing had chiefly -escaped, the insignificant remnant remaining in hard -knobs in the corners. The original wood peeped out -through faint streaks of the original paint, while here -and there patches of deal and hoop-iron lent variety -to the exterior. Many different sets had contributed -towards the composition of the harness, wherein nothing -matched except in age and decrepitude. A -tattered urchin stood at the head of the little horse -which had an objection to trains. The horse was -asleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I were asked,” murmured Norah, surveying -him, “I would say he had an objection to moving at -all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He looks as if he would like to lean up against a -tree and dream,” said Wally, “and good gracious! is -he going to drag the lot of us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why wouldn’t he?” asked Mr. Burke, with some -asperity. “Git along with ye to the ass, John Conolly,”—to -the boy—“and lend a hand to the big thrunk -when the road does be rough, or it will fall off on ye. -Will ye get up, miss?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it far?” asked Norah, regarding the somnolent -horse with troubled eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis five Irish miles, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But can he take us all? There’s—there’s so much -of us,” said Norah, her glance roving over her tall -menfolk, and dwelling finally on Mr. Burke, who was -not less tall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Him!” said Mr. Burke. “But isn’t the luggage -on the ass-cart? Sure it’ll only be a luxury for him—many’s -the time I’ve known that one with seven or -eight behind him, going to a funeral, and he that full -of courage, I’d me own throubles to keep him from -bolting? Let ye get up, and ’tis little he’ll be making -of ye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They got up, unhappily, and Mr. Burke hopped -into the driver’s seat—which is occupied only in time -of stress, the jarvey greatly preferring to drive from -the side. He said, “G’wan, now!” to the little horse, -and that animal awoke and took the road gallantly, -while a cracked bell on his collar rattled a discordant -accompaniment to his hoof-beats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They jogged on between the high banks. The scent -of the whitethorn that made snow upon their crests -flooded the air, and mingled with deep wafts of odour -from clumps of furze lying golden in the fields. There -were other flowers starring the hedges; honeysuckle, -waving long arms of sweetness, and, nestling closely -in the grass-grown banks, clusters of wild violets, -starry celandines and even a few late primroses. There -were many houses in sight; little whitewashed cabins -scattered over the hills, approached by narrow boreens -or tiny lanes, so narrow that it seemed that even an -ass-cart could scarcely manage to squeeze in between -their towering banks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever see such little paddocks—fields, I -ought to say?” uttered Wally. “And the great fat -banks and hedges between them! Why, they must -cover as much ground as there is in many of the -fields!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d put wire-fences, in Australia,” said Mr. -Linton, laughing. “It’s queer, when you come to -think of it: we’re supposed to have land to spare, but -we put the narrowest fences that can be made; and -here, there isn’t enough to go round, and they cover -up ever so much of it with their banks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but aren’t you glad they don’t make wire-fences!” -Norah broke out. “They’re so hideous: -and these hedges are just exquisite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not being a landholder, I am, indeed,” said her -father. “The idea of this landscape given up to -wire-fences is depressing—long may they stick to their -banks! And their shelter must be valuable in this -country; they don’t seem to have many trees.” His -eye ran over the bare little fields. “Don’t you grow -trees, in Donegal?” he asked of the back of Mr. -Burke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That gentleman, feeling himself addressed, swung -round.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There do be plenty in the woods and in gentlemen’s -grounds, sir. I never seen any in the fields. They -do say there was any amount in the ould ancient days, -or how would the bogs be there? Forests, no less; -and quare beasts in them. I’ve seen ould heads of -deer with horns that wide you’d never get them up a -boreen. There were no fields and no fences in those -days, and people lived by hunting—great hunting -those big deer would give them, to be sure. If you’d -kill a rabbit nowadays it’d be as much as you’d do -to ate it before the polis had you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If killing rabbits is what you care for, you might -come to Australia,” said Jim, laughing. “You would -certainly be welcome there. Only after a little while, -you wouldn’t eat any.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was a lad I knew in Derry went out to them -parts,” said Mr. Burke, “and he sent home letters -with such tales of his doings you wouldn’t believe -them. He said there were beasts that hopped on -their tails faster than a horse ’ud gallop, and rabbits -that had the face ate off the country. Like a carpet -on the floor, he says. But sure he was always the -boy that’d spin you a yarn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was a true yarn, anyhow,” Jim remarked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do ye tell me, now?” The long face of Patsy -Burke was respectful, but incredulous, “And another -thing he said, that a man couldn’t believe: that the -genthry’d go out and poison foxes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They would,” said Mr. Linton. “Gladly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But——” Words failed Mr. Burke. He gaped -at his passengers. The horse dropped to a walk, -unheeded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poison them, or shoot them, or get rid of them -in any way possible,” said Jim, enjoying the mounting -agony of Mr. Burke. “We can’t do much hunting, -you see, when we live on big places, with the nearest -neighbour perhaps twenty miles off; and often the -hills are so steep and rough, and so thick with fallen -timber, that horses and hounds would want wings to -hunt through them. But a man may have thousands -of sheep on hills like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do ye tell me? Thousands, is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather. And the foxes breed like rabbits in those -hills, and there’s nothing they like so well as young -lambs. You can go out in the morning and find forty -or fifty dead lambs—the cruel brutes of foxes just eat -their noses and go on to the next. When you see -that number of little lambs killed, in that fashion, -you’re ready to start poisoning foxes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ye would so,” said Mr. Burke, explosively. “And -no one interferes with ye?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you get paid for it,” Jim said. To which -Mr. Burke replied by a gasp of “God help us!” and -relieved his feelings by lashing the horse with a shout -of “G’wan, now!” The horse broke into a surprised -canter, and they rocked down a little hill. At its -foot a wide expanse of bog stretched westward, looking -like a great grassy plain. Here and there, near the -road, men were working at cutting turf, armed with -the loy or narrow, sharp spade, which takes out a sod -of turf, the size of a brick, to be stacked to dry in the -sun. A great corner had already been cut away, and -lay bleak and desolate. Above its level the wall of -turf rose three or four feet, a dark-brown glutinous-looking -mass, smoothly marked with the scars of the -loy. There were deep pools of water here and there: -the brown bog-water that scares the English tourists -who finds it in a bedroom jug in a hotel, and gives -foundation for future scathing comments on the dirty -ways of Ireland: the fact being that if its exquisite -velvet-softness could be taken to London, most of the -Bond Street complexion specialists would go out of -business for lack of customers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So that’s turf,” commented Wally, looking curiously -at the rough stacks of sods, which the sun was -drying to a lighter colour than the deep brown of the -bog-face. “It doesn’t look the sort of stuff you’d -make fires of—wherein I expect I show my hideous -ignorance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Burke had begun with a snort at the first part -of this remark, but checked it in its birth at the frank -avowal of the conclusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait till ye see it burn, sir,” he said. “Ye’d not -want a better fire, barring ye could get a bit of bog-wood -to mix with it. Then ye’d not get its aiqual -if ye were walking the world all your life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are those pools deep?” Norah asked, looking -at the still brown water, fringed with reeds and sedges.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some of ’em’s no depth at all; and there’s some -that deep that no man knows the bottom of ’em. -They’d take anyone and swallow him entirely, the -way he’d never be heard of again; and they do say -the bog keeps ’em fresh as if they’d just fallen in, only -I dunno would it be true: I never seen anybody that -had come out. It’s one of the old stories that do be -going in the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When <span class='it'>we</span> talk about a bog, we mean something -that looks—well, boggy,” Norah said. “I never -thought an Irish bog looked so pretty; all grass and -rushes, like a big plain. Why do they call it a bog?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d know if you got into it,” said Mr. Burke, -bearing patiently with the ignorance of the foreigner. -“There’s parts of it firm enough to gallop a horse -over; but you’d want to know where you were going, -it’s that treacherous—it’d let you down as deep as -your waist in a second, and it looking safe as a street. -Some of the mosses that do be growing on it ’ud warn -you: there’s one or two kinds that only grow where -it’s deep and quaking. As for pretty—it’s airly yet -for flowers; but you’d see it like a garden, in the -autumn, with meadowsweet and loosestrife and -canavan, that they call the bog-cotton, like snow -lying on it. There’s no end to the quare things that -do be growing in a bog.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They passed ass-carts, built up with basket work to -form creels, piled high with turf,—generally in the -charge of a barefooted urchin, dark-eyed and graceful -in his rags, who would fling a cheery “Good-day” at -the car rattling by, touching his cap to “the genthry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis a great year for saving turf,” Mr. Burke told -them. “There’s no knowing what the war’ll be doing -with prices; they say the poor people’ll be hard put to -it to go on living at all. So everyone’s getting turf; -sure, it’s easier to be hungry if you’re warm. I -dunno, at all, why would they make a war: didn’t -we have enough and too much to pay for tea and -tobacco as it was without the ould Kaiser poking in -his nose?” Thus adjusting satisfactorily the responsibility -for his financial troubles, Mr. Burke -addressed the horse angrily, and drove on in -silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to a little river, brawling merrily under a -bridge of grey stone. A turn in the road brought trees -in view, fringing a lough that lay tranquil in the sunlight; -a placid sheet of blue water broken here and -there by tiny islands. Towards the end that was -nearest, the trees were thickly planted. Between -them they caught glimpses of an old stone house -nestling in a wilderness of a garden that ran down -almost to the edge of the lough.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patsy Burke swung the little horse in through a -gateway, the iron gates of which stood invitingly -open. They jogged up a winding avenue, overhung -with lofty beech-trees. It ended suddenly in front -of the house. Through a wide doorway they could -see a dim hall, where a bewildering collection of old -guns and blunderbusses was ranged over a massive -mahogany table, the legs of which ended in claw-feet -that would have drawn a connoisseur like a magnet. -Honeysuckle and roses climbed together up the old -walls, framing the doorway in blossom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are ye there, ma’am?” bawled Patsy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A pleasant-faced woman came through the hall -quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d have given up expecting you, if that old train -was ever in time,” she said, giving a hand to Norah -as that damsel hopped from the car. “Aren’t you -all tired out, and you travelling since early morning? -Come in then—there’s hot water waiting in your -rooms, and tea will be ready in ten minutes. Is the -luggage coming, Patsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, ma’am,” responded Mr. Burke. “Lasteways, -if that image of a John Conolly doesn’t play -any of his thricks with the ass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps, now, you’d be better going back to meet -him when you have the horse stabled,” suggested his -mistress. “I wouldn’t have the luggage delayed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, sure, it will be all right,” said Mr. Burke, -hastily, “John Conolly’s not that bad; he’ll get it -here sometime, but where’d be the use of hurrying the -ass? Well, I’ll throw a look down the road when I’m -after putting the car by, ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that makes sure of me poor Brownie getting -a good grooming,” murmured the landlady, ushering -her guests into the house as the car jogged stablewards. -“Patsy’s not that fond of a walk that he’d scamp his -job to be travelling the road after John Conolly. Are -you there, Bridget?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am, ma’am,” said a pretty girl, appearing from -the back of the hall with such swiftness as to compel -the belief that she had been surreptitiously observing -the new-comers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take the gentlemen to their rooms,” commanded -the landlady. “Will you come with me, Miss Linton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah followed her up the broad staircase. A wide -corridor led through mouldering archways, whence -passages branched off to right and left. The walls bore -signs of decorations of a bygone day, now faint and -faded with age. The landlady threw open the door -of a large room, with two windows looking over the -lough. A huge bed occupied an alcove: bare acreages -of floor intervened between isolated pieces of furniture, -with rugs lying, like islands, on the stained boards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I took up the carpet—’twas old and there were -holes in it you’d fall through,” said the landlady. -“But I could put you in a smaller room if you’d rather -have a carpet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like this,” Norah said, looking round the clean -bareness of the room. “But can’t I have the windows -open?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll have to fight Bridget over them,” replied -the landlady, flinging both windows wide. “I opened -them twice this morning, but she shut them again; -and the second time she was so anxious about all the -deaths you’d be dying with the dint of the cold blast -sweeping in, that I let them stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t think there was any cold blast,” Norah -said laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There wasn’t; but Bridget thinks that any air -that comes in through an open window is a blast, even -if it’s the middle of summer. Have you everything -you want, Miss Linton? I’m sure you’ll all be -famished for your tea, and I’ll run and see to -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think this is a jolly place,” Norah said, as they -gathered, ten minutes later, round a table that might -certainly have groaned under its load of good things, -had it not been made of exceedingly solid old mahogany. -“It’s not a bit like a boarding-house, is it? There’s -such a home-y feel about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a home-y look about this table,” Jim -averred. “I haven’t seen anything like it since we -left Billabong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were crusty loaves of Irish soda-bread, which -is better than anything else except the home-made -bread of Australia, heaps of brown, crisp scones, -buttered hot-cakes, and glass dishes with ruby-coloured -jams. A bowl of cream was in the middle, -and a dish of rich dark honey in the comb—not like -the anæmic honey one buys in London, which is made -by fat and lazy bees out of dishes of sugar and water, -and tastes like it. The Irish bees had worked over -miles of heathery moorland, and their honey held -something of the heather’s fresh sweetness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think of the trenches—and bully beef!” ejaculated -Wally. “I say, what’s this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had uncovered a smoking plateful of a queer -flat substance, on which attention was immediately -focussed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does one eat it?” Norah queried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blessed if I know,” Jim answered. “It looks a -bit queer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Light suddenly illumined Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless us, that’s potato-cake!” he exclaimed. -“I haven’t tasted it for many a year, and it’s one of -the best things going. It ought to be eaten so hot -that it burns the mouth, so I advise you not to lose -time.’ He helped himself, declaring that no considerations -of etiquette were to stand in the way of -the proper temperature of a potato-cake, and the -others somewhat doubtfully followed his example. In -a very short time the plate was empty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>That’s</span> a recipe I’ll take back to Brownie!” was -Norah’s significant comment. “Do you think Mrs. -Moroney would let me have a lesson on it in the -kitchen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Moroney seems inclined to eat from one’s -hand,” said Mr. Linton. “She’s desperately anxious -for us to be comfortable. You know, we were told in -London that she had only begun this business since -the war—her husband is at the front—so time hasn’t -soured her as it sours most landladies. We’re lucky -in catching her in the fluid state: later on she’ll -solidify into the adamantine condition that is truly -landladylike.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meanwhile, she’s rather an old duck,” said Wally. -“Hallo, who’s that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A small rosy face, crowned with a tangle of yellow -curls, was peeping round the doorway. Finding itself -observed, it hastily disappeared. Norah snatched a -sponge-cake and went in swift pursuit, returning, a -moment later, with a very small boy clad in a blue -shirt and ridiculously diminutive knickerbockers, -who greeted the company with a friendly smile somewhat -complicated by a large mouthful of cake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’re a cheerful person,” Jim said. “What’s -your name?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Timsy,” said the new-comer. “And I’m eight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I call that genius,” said Wally. “He knew you’d -ask him that next, so he saved you the trouble. Do -you live here, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The small boy nodded vigorously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me daddy’s gorn,” he volunteered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fightin’ the Gair-mins. They’s bad—they’s after -hurtin’ him in the laig.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did they?” said Wally, sympathetically. “Poor -daddy! Is he better?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is. He’s goin’ to shoot me some.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is he, now? Will he bring them home?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dunno will he. I asked the postman, an’ he -said daddy couldn’t post ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That wasn’t nice of the postman,” said Jim. -“What would you do with them if you got them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Frow fings at ’em,” said Timsy, valiantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good man!” said Jim. “We’ll have you in the -trenches before the war’s over, I expect. Another -cake, old chap?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy accepted the cake graciously, digging his -white teeth into it with appreciation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m after having me tea,” he confided. “An’ -Bridget said there wasn’t any cake. But there’s lots.” -His eye swept the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is, indeed,” said Jim, guiltily. “Just you -have as much as you feel like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you a soldier?” demanded Timsy, his eyes -on Jim’s uniform.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boy nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like me daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not as good, I expect,” said Jim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me daddy’s the finest soldier ever went out of -Ireland—old Nanny told me he was. And she said -if once he met that old Kaiser he’d be sorry he ever -got borned. An’ he would, too, if me daddy cot him. -An he’s a sergeant, ’cause he’s got free stripes on his -arm. Why hasn’t you got any?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know as much as your daddy,” said Jim, -probably with perfect truth. “When I get bigger -they may give me some.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re bigger than me daddy, now,” said Timsy, -surveying him. “Only you haven’t got any whiskers. -I ’spect you have to have whiskers before you get free -stripes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I expect so,” Jim agreed. “I’ll grow some the -first minute I get time. What have you done with -your legs, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Scratched ’em, I ’spect,” said Timsy, indifferently, -casting a fleeting glance at his bare brown legs, which -bore many marks of warfare. “They’s bwambles in -the wood. Why is your buttons dif-runt to me -daddy’s?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are your daddy’s like?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy fished laboriously in the pocket of his shirt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I got one here,” he said. “It came uncottoned, -an’ fell off, an’ daddy said I could have it. Look—it’s -nicer than yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course it is—isn’t your daddy a sergeant?” -said Jim, gravely. Timsy looked up sharply, and was -seized with compunction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you mind,” he said, hastily putting away -his cherished button, lest dangling it before the eyes -of his new friend should excite vain longings in his -soul. He slipped a grimy little paw into Jim’s. -“ ’Twill not be long at all before they make a sergeant -of you. Can you hurry up an’ grow whiskers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll do my best,” returned Jim, laughing. “You’re -a good old sportsman, Timsy. Have another -cake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy’s head was bent over the dish in the tremendous -effort of selection, when a slight commotion was -heard in the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was without in the scullery,” said a high-pitched -voice, “and I after giving him his tea. ‘Let you -sit quiet there till I have a minute to put a decent -appearance on you,’ says I. ‘ ’Tis not in them ould -rags you’d be having the genthry see you,’ I says. -With that I wint back, an’ the kitchen was as bare as -the palm of me hand. I’ve called him till me throat’s -cracking——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that you, Timsy?” whispered Norah. The -dancing eyes of the culprit were sufficient answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blessed Hour!” said the voice of Mrs. Moroney, -torn between relief and wrath. Her good-natured -face hung in the doorway, presently followed by her -ample form. “Is it you, then, Timsy Moroney, -disgracing me and annoying the gentleman! Why -would you have him on your knee, sir, and he the -ragamuffin of the world? I’d not have you troubled -with him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s not troubling me at all, Mrs. Moroney,” Jim -assured her. “He’s an awfully friendly little chap. -Does it matter if he has cakes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The question savoured of shutting the stable-door -after the stealing of the steed. Timsy ate his cake -hurriedly, lest disaster await him in the answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing he doesn’t eat,” said his mother -resignedly. “But I’d not let him annoy you, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was no cake in the kitchen!” said Timsy, -fixing reproachful eyes on his parent. “How would -I have me tea, an’ no cake?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cock you up with cake!” returned Mrs. Moroney, -spiritedly. “Well able to go without it you are, for -once in a while.” She relented before her son’s -appealing gaze. “Come away, then, and let Bridget -wash you: sure, she’s screaming all over the place -after you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy hesitated, regarding Jim with affection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I come back some time?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you can,” said Jim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The small boy climbed down slowly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m destroyed with washin’,” he complained. -“ ’Tis only at dinner-time she had me all soaped. -An’ I <span class='it'>hate</span> shoes . . .” The voice of his lamentations -died away as his mother swept him from the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nice kid,” said Jim, getting up. “Let’s go out -and reconnoitre.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shadows were lengthening across the strip of -tree-fringed grass leading to the gate. Near the -house, the garden was a wilderness of colour and -fragrance. Roses and sweet-peas, stocks and asters, -nasturtiums and clematis, in a bewildering tangle, -jostled each other in the untidy beds and on the old -stone walls. Here and there was a mouldering summer-house, -its entrance almost blocked with hanging -creepers, while in shady nooks in the winding walks -were seats with an appearance of old age that suggested -prudence in sitting down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently they came upon a path leading abruptly -down-hill to the lough. They followed it, passing out -of the garden into a little field where small black -Kerry cattle looked inquisitively at them, and through -a rickety gate on to the shore, where grey pebbles -made a rough beach. A disconsolate donkey, attached -to a windlass, walked round and round in a weary -circle, pumping water up to the house—a spectacle -which promptly set Norah to hunting for a thistle for -him, which the donkey received coldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would take more than a thistle to sweeten that -job,” said Wally. “Come and look at the boat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Patsy Burke was rather feverishly busy with -the boat—it had apparently occurred to him that -since the new-comers would assuredly want her it -might be as well to make certain that she was sound. -She was not sound—to rectify which obvious condition -Mr. Burke laboured mightily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s seen better days,” remarked Mr. Linton, -looking at the ancient vessel with critical eyes. Already -she had been extensively patched: her paint was -merely a memory, and she bore “a general flavour of -mild decay.” The oars, which lay near, had also been -mended many times. They did not match: a fact -which the Australians were to discover later.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, sure, she’s a good boat,” said Mr. Burke. -“ ’Tis only the thrifle of a leak she have in her. You -wouldn’t ask an aisier or a kinder boat to pull than -that one—begob, she’s the best boat to be found on -any lough hereabouts.” This assertion also was to -be verified by time. “In the ould times, when the -family was here, many’s the day I’ve seen her, full of -red cushions and fine ladies, and she tearing up the -lough like a racehorse!” The poetic nature of Mr. -Burke’s memories moved him to a sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who was the family?” queried Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The O’Donnells, to be sure,” answered Mr. Burke, -his long face expressing faint surprise at ignorance so -vast. “They owned all this country, from the ould -ancient times—but there’s none of them left now. -Me gran’father, and his gran’father before him, was -tenants under them. I’m told they were kings, one -time. But there’s nothing left of any of the ould -stock now—all their houses is sold, or falling to pieces, -an’ they at the ends of the earth, seeking their fortune.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The house is very old, isn’t it?” Norah asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis ould, and ’tis falling to decay—it ’ud take a -power of money to put it right. Ah, the good days -is gone from Ireland—what with the land war and the -famine, all the money was swept from her.” Mr. -Burke stopped abruptly. He pulled his battered felt -hat over his eyes and hammered vigorously at the old -boat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went up through the fragrant garden, now -heavy with evening shadows. Above them the gaunt -old house towered, bosomed in its trees, dim with the -night mist from the lough. Lights were beginning to -twinkle from the windows, and the faint acrid smell -of turf fires stole upon the still air. To Norah’s fancy -the silent garden was peopled with shadowy forms—tall -gallants and exquisite ladies of a bygone day, and -little children who ran, laughing, along paths that had -no tangle of neglected growth. It was theirs; the -dream visions made her feel an interloper as she -crossed the threshold into the lit hall.</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch6'>CHAPTER VI<br/> <span class='sub-head'>OF LITTLE BROWN TROUT</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“Loughareema! Loughareema!</p> -<p class='line0'>    Lies so high among the heather,</p> -<p class='line0'>A little lough, a dark lough,</p> -<p class='line0'>    The wather’s black an’ deep:</p> -<p class='line0'>Ould herons go a-fishing there,</p> -<p class='line0'>    An’ sea-gulls all together</p> -<p class='line0'>Float roun’ the one green island</p> -<p class='line0'>    On the fairy lough asleep.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Moira O’Neil.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>A</span> WEEK went by with the mysterious swiftness -of holiday weeks, especially in Ireland. No -one quite knew what became of the long June days; -they dawned in light mists that lay on the surface of -Lough Aniller, reddened with the sunrise, only to -vanish as the sun mounted; they widened to warm -brightness, with clear blue skies flecked with the -tiniest cloudlets; and sank to long, delicious twilights, -with just enough chill in the air to make light coats -necessary. No one was inclined for strenuous exertion. -Jim and Wally, under orders to take life very -easily for the present, were content to lie about in the -fragrant grass, to go for short walks along the borders -of the lough, or to let Patsy Burke row them slowly -up its placid waters, where scarcely a ripple marked -the rising of a trout. To Norah and her father it was -sufficient happiness to watch their boys gradually -winning back strength. Each day that went by and -brought no recurrence of throat-trouble was something -achieved; and the long, golden days smoothed the -weary lines from the boyish faces, and brought something -of the old tan into their cheeks. There was no -doubt that as a sanatorium Donegal merited all that -had been claimed of her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were the only guests in the old stone house. -Later on, Mrs. Moroney told them, people were coming -from Dublin and Belfast: but the war had temporarily -killed the tourist traffic from England, and -Irish fishing was having a much-needed rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But for the fowl I have, indeed, I’d be hard put -to it,” said Mrs. Moroney. She reared innumerable -ducks and chickens, and carried on a thriving trade, -sending them ready dressed to England—aided by a -parcels post system which, unlike that of Australia, -does not appear to regard the senders and receivers -of parcels as wealthy eccentrics, to be heavily charged, -but otherwise unworthy of consideration. At all -times Mrs. Moroney was to be found plucking and -dressing her wares—keeping, nevertheless, an eagle -eye upon her household, and always ready to take -interest in the doings of her guests. Good nature -beamed from her countenance, and chicken-fluff always -ornamented her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy had constituted himself Jim’s shadow, and -courier-in-chief to the party. He knew all the country -with a boy’s knowledge, had an acquaintance with -the ways of trout which seemed miraculous in one of -his years, and cherished a feud of long standing with -John Conolly, whose treatment of the little ass did not -come up to the standard instilled into Timsy by the -sergeant, now in France. All these matters he placed -at the absolute disposal of Jim. The rest of the party -he treated politely: they were well enough. But the -big boy in khaki was somehow different, and Timsy -gave him all his warm little heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a shock to him that Jim and Wally appeared -in rough tweeds on the morning after their arrival.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s you uny-forms?” demanded Timsy, -hopping on one foot on the mossy path, rather like an -impertinent sparrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Upstairs,” Jim said, solemnly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why for don’t you put ’em on?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t want to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy surveyed him with a pained air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me daddy says uny-form had a right to be wore -all the time,” he said. “He didn’t have no uvver -clothes when <span class='it'>he</span> came home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim relented at the small, worried face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell you how it is, old man,” he said. “The old -Germans laid us out; and we’re going to get better -as quick as we can, to go and lick them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?” said Timsy, digging his heel into the -earth, in bloodthirsty ecstasy. “That’s what me -daddy’s after doing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course he is. Well, we’ll get better quicker if -we haven’t got to wear heavy uniforms all the time, -don’t you see? So we asked leave; and a big general -said we could put on other clothes. He was a very -big general, so it’s all right, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was he very big?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Enormous,” said Jim, gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If he was very ’normous, I ’spect it’s all right,” -Timsy said, relinquishing his point with reluctance. -“Only I likes you best in uny-forms.” His eye suddenly -lit with new hope. “Do you think you’d -wear ’em on Sunday, an’ you goin’ to church?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would,” Jim said. “There, it’s a bargain, -Timsy.” So Timsy accepted the tweed knickerbockers -as necessary evils, and peace reigned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for the trout, they had remained in peace. -Patsy Burke had given the Australians a few lessons -in throwing a fly, a gentle art to which they did not -take very kindly, though they proved apt enough -pupils. But the trout were not rising, and they -found it dull. Their previous experience had been -either the primitive method of a stick, a string, and -a worm, in the creeks at home, or a deep-sea hand-line -with a substantial bait and a heavy sinker. They -liked these peaceful ways, and to them the incessant -business of casting seemed, in the Australian phrase, -“too much like hard work.” They endeavoured, -however, to keep this view from the scandalized Mr. -Burke, whose scorn at the mere mention of a hand-line -was almost painful to witness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In defence of their apathy, it must be admitted -that the sport was poor. The weather had been -unfavourable, and the brown trout declined to rise; -but even in the best of years Lough Aniller, the big -lough by the house, was not a good fishing lake. A -few rises came to them, which they missed: and they -had the poor satisfaction of beholding Mr. Burke land -a specimen which weighed not quite a quarter of a -pound. It did not seem, to untutored eyes quite -worth the candle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis a poor lake, anyways,” Mr. Burke said. They -were paddling home in the setting sun, the water -full of bright reflections. “I dunno why the trout -wouldn’t be in it: it’s the biggest hereabouts, but -they don’t seem wishful for it at all. There’s Lough -Nacurra and Lough Anoor—they’re little enough, but -you’d get finer fishing in them in a day than in a week -of Lough Aniller.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t we go there?” spoke Wally, lazily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t. -Sure, they’re no distance, and the fishing belongs to -the house; there’ll not be a rod on them, barring -your own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do they mean, Patsy?” Norah asked. Mr. -Burke was her instructor in the Irish language, and -she thirsted for translations of each unknown word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lough Anoor’s the lough of the gold, miss, and -Lough Nacurra’s the lough of the Champions. I -dunno why they have those names on them; there’s -a lot of ould stories goin’. Whatever reason anybody -was to give, no one could say it was wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Lough Aniller means the lough of the Eagle, -you said, Patsy, but there don’t seem any eagles -about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thrue for ye,” agreed Mr. Burke; “they do not. -But I wouldn’t wonder if there was any amount of -them here in the ould ancient times.” He scanned -the placid waters with disfavour. “There’s one thing -they couldn’t call it, and that’s Nabrack—the lough -of the Trout!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They certainly couldn’t—whoever ‘they’ may -be,” said Wally, laughing. “There are just about as -many trout in this lough as there are in the front -garden, I believe. Who’ll come to one of the others -to-morrow?—I’ll have to learn their names before I -say them in public. I vote for the one that belongs -to the Champions!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lough Nacurra—ye might do worse,” said Patsy. -“ ’Tis a good little lough, and there’s a small little -island in it, that ’ud be a good place for you to be taking -your dinners. The boat’s no great thing at all—but -she’s better than the one on Lough Anoor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What!” exclaimed Mr. Linton. “Is she worse -than this one?” The boat on Lough Aniller had not -struck the party as an up-to-date craft.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is,” said Mr. Burke. “But there’s no distance -to be pulling her: sure, the lough’s not big enough -to go any ways far. If ’twas Lough Anoor, now, -there’d be no good in me comin’ with you, for five -couldn’t sit in her. Four’ll be all she’ll hold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she safe?” asked Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it safe? Sure, you wouldn’t sink that one, -not if you danced in her,” said Patsy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had drifted almost to the end of the lough. -Above them the high road crossed the stone bridge. -The whir of a motor hummed across it, and, looking -up, they saw a grey runabout car, driven by a man -of whose face little could be seen, since goggles hid -his eyes and his cap was pulled low. Patsy touched -his cap hastily as the car vanished in its own dust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis the young masther,” he said; and added, as -if in further explanation, “Sir John, I mean—Sir -John O’Neill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does he live here?” Norah asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He do, miss. But a lot of his time he’s somewhere -else—London or foreign parts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought every landowner about here had gone -to the war,” Mr. Linton said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Begob, Sir John ’ud give the two eyes out of his -head to be gone, too,” said Patsy, shortly. “But -they won’t take him. ’Tis—’tis weakly he is. He -have the spirit of ten men in him; them ould German’s -’ud find their hands full, and they to be tackling -him in a tight place. Well, well—some people don’t -get much luck.” He stopped short, and rowed -violently for some time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you get many salmon here?” Jim asked, idly. -It was evident that Mr. Burke did not wish to pursue -the subject of Sir John O’Neill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the river—but only a few,” replied the boatman. -“ ’Twouldn’t be worth your while getting a licence, sir. -Sure it’s them ’ud give you a different idea of fishing. -I got one in Lough Illion, in Kerry, one time when I -was staying in them parts. That was the fish! He -tuk me four and a half hours to kill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whew—w!” said Jim, respectfully. “He must -have been a big fellow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he was not that big at all; but he tuk the -fly as if he meant it, and down he went to the bottom -like a shtone. An’ there he lay, and I going round -and round him in the boat, trying any ways to shift -him, and he sulking in the weeds. Banging my rod -I was, and pelting at him all the bits of rock I had in -the boat, and I couldn’t shtir him. I was famished -out, for it was pegging hailshtones and sleet. At -last he come up; and then he thought better of it, when -he saw the sky above him, and he was going down again, -and I let a dhrive at him with the gaff, and got him -just near the tail—great luck I had with him, to be sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was about time you did have some luck,” Jim -remarked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s not many of them ’ud sulk like that,” said -Patsy. “Generally they’d be tiring themselves with -the runs they’s take at the first. And if they thrun -a lep or two—’tis the lep takes most out of them: it -breaks their courage. There’s nothing like a salmon, -to my way of thinking, though there’s a lot of the -gentry do be sticking to the little brown trout. Will -ye be for Lough Nacurra in the morning, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will—if you’ll promise us fish,” Jim responded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It ’ud be a bold man to promise anything this -weather,” said Patsy, looking with disfavour at the -clear sky and the placid lough. “Still-an’-all, ’tis a -good lough; if they’re rising anywhere it’ll be on -Nacurra.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Morning came with a haze lying on the blue hills, -and a fitful breeze: the best fishing day yet, Patsy -pronounced it, as he shouldered a gigantic luncheon-basket -and led the way down the avenue and along -the dusty high road. They struck across the bog -presently, following a path that led through a tangle -of the sweet bog-myrtle; and, in a little harbour of -smooth grey stones at the western end of Lough -Nacurra, came upon their boat, half-concealed among -the rushes fringing the water’s edge. The lough was -a long narrow sheet of water, widening a little at the -far end, where a thickly-wooded island showed dimly -through the haze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you been storing water in the boat?” Jim -inquired, gravely, surveying the ancient craft among -the rushes. Its bottom timbers bore evidence of long -soaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tis a thrifle of dampness she have in her,” admitted -Mr. Burke, stepping in carefully and getting to -work with a baling-tin. “I’m after sending John -Conolly up only this morning to bale her out, but he’s -the champion at scamping a job. Ah, she’ll dry out -beautifully in the sun, sir, once I have her emptied. -There now—let you get in gently, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will,” said Mr. Linton, placing his feet with -extreme caution, and coming to rest thankfully in the -stern. “I don’t want to begin the day with a ducking, -and those bottom boards look as if they would crumble -under my weight. Take care, Wally—this is a craft -to be treated with respect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you drowned many in this one?” queried -Jim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Burke emitted a deep chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yerra, you will have your joke, sir!” he said, -making hasty repairs to a rowlock that chiefly consisted -of rusty wire, of which more than one strand -had broken away. “There’s many a good fish killed -in worse boats than this. A lick of paint, now, and -you wouldn’t know her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t call her a boat at all,” retorted Jim, -disposing his long legs so as to avoid, as far as possible, -the steadily increasing dampness in the bottom. -“She’s a hoary antique, and she ought to be in a -museum; but if you say she’ll stay afloat, Patsy, -we’re game. Lend me that baling-tin while you’re -rowing, and I’ll try to discourage the lough from -entering.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Linton declined to fish, remarking that he preferred -to be ready to swim when necessary, and would -meanwhile officiate as baler as soon as Jim was ready -to get to work with his rod. Patsy pulled out gently, -until they were clear of rushes. A light wind rippled -the water, sending tiny wavelets lapping against the -sides of the boat; overhead, clouds drifted across a -soft blue sky and now and then blotted out the sun. -The hills sloping down to the lough on three sides were -half shrouded in haze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis a perfect fishing-day,” Patsy pronounced, -shipping his oars and letting the boat drift gently. -“If there was a little more wind itself ye’d soon have -a tremenjious basket of fish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patsy’s predictions were by this time well known to -the Australians. He suffered, as Wally said, from -enthusiasms, and all his geese were swans; so that -his cheerful forecast raised no throb of hope in their -hearts. He had been as cheerful on other mornings, -when they had fished in vain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t quite see the fascination of it,” Wally -commented, after ten minutes of steady whipping the -water. “It’s so continuous; and you get nothing -for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me a good sinker and a plump slab of clam -for a bait—and the schnapper on the bite,” Jim responded. -“I don’t believe these trout know how -to bite at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t say bite—it’s ‘rise,’ ” said Norah, -gloomily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know. Perhaps because they don’t bite. -They certainly don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They do not,” Wally agreed. “Perhaps they -rise and saunter past this queer collection of sham -insects that we dangle on the face of the waters: and -if you have luck you hook them as they go by. Only -we don’t have luck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They fished on, sadly, casting with a precision that -won commendation from Mr. Burke, and to which -long practice with a stock whip had probably contributed. -Nothing occurred, except the end of the -lough: whereupon Patsy resumed the oars, rowed to -the end whence they had started, and began up drift -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do people do this all day—for weeks?” Norah -demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yerra, they do, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what do they do it <span class='it'>for</span>?” Norah said, -desperately. “I don’t see any fun at all. I’m going -to take the oars presently, Patsy, and you can have -my rod.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If ever I put hard-earned pay into contraptions -like this again!” Jim uttered, gazing despondently -on the dainty ten feet green-heart rods, new and -workmanlike with their fresh tackle. “They looked -just top-hole in the shop, and they do still; but that’s -all there is about them. I vote we go and scramble -over a heathery mountain or two, and stop whipping -this old lough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hear, hear!” said Wally. “Let’s get Patsy to -put us ashore at the lower end, and we’ll leave the -trout to some one else. I’m blessed if I fish again -until we get back to the creek at Billabong—with a -worm and a sinker, and a nice little cork bobbing on -the top of the water. No science, but you get fish. -These old Irish trout—my aunt!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His reel whirred suddenly under his hand, and his -rod bent double. There was a swirl in the water. -The line ran out sharply, and something that was -living gold in the sunlight leaped, flashed for an instant, -and was gone again. Patsy uttered a howl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Leave him run, sir!—give and take! Reel in -when the strain is off him. Aisy now, sir!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Off him!” gasped Wally. “Why, he pulls like -a working bullock! Won’t the rod break?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will not,” said Patsy. “Drop the point, sir, -if he leps. Yerra, sure that’s a fine grand trout ye -have—did ye see the great splashing rise he made to -ye? Howld him, sir—he’ll get off on ye if ye slacken -too much. Wind in when ye get a chanst, and bring -him nice and aisy to the boat—I have the net ready.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bring him to the boat!—it’s himself that’s doing -all the bringing!” uttered Wally. “Tell me if I’m -messing it up, Patsy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Begob, you’re doing fine!” said Patsy—“ye’re -playing him beautiful. Give and take, and his head’ll -come up presently—don’t be afraid if he do run from -ye. Oh, murder, there’s the little mistress got one too!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah’s reel sang suddenly, and a fish went off -astern. The owner of the rod made a wild effort to -play him sitting down, and then stood up, her rod -describing erratic circles while Mr. Linton grasped her -skirt in a desperate effort to steady her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right, daddy!” she gasped. “Oh, such -a beauty—I know he weighs a ton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let him go, miss!” shouted Patsy, rendered -desperate by the hopelessness of coaching two novices -at once. “Give him his head—he’ll come back to ye. -There y’are, sir—did ye see his head come up?—wind -him in! No, not you, miss—let him have his run: -sure that one won’t be tired this long while, by the -looks of him. Oh, murder, sir, is he gone from you?”—as -the trout made a fresh dash for freedom and fled -under the boat. “No,—howld on to the vilyun an’ -he’ll be back. Kape a nice, steady strain on him, -miss—give and take.” He hovered over the side, -feverishly grasping the handle of the landing-net. -“Ye have him bet, sir—here he comes. Nice and aisy -does it—don’t hurry him—kape your point up. Back -a little—ah, I have him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The net slipped under Wally’s fish deftly. Simultaneously, -Norah’s trout executed a wild leap, and -Norah reeled him, quite involuntarily, near the boat. -Patsy, responding gallantly to her cry for help, dropped -the first trout hastily, and turned just in time to net -the second, by sheer good luck. The excitement of -the moment overcame him, and Norah’s fish, falling -upon Wally’s, entangled both casts and lines by a few -frantic leaps, before Patsy could collect himself sufficiently -to pounce upon them. The boat rocked with -enthusiasm. Jim had prudently reeled in, to be out -of the way of possible happenings, and stood, beaming, -while the victorious anglers looked at each other with -parted lips and shining eyes, and Mr. Burke wailed -and triumphed alternately.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wirra, but them lines is destroyed on us! Oh, -the grand fish, entirely!—would ye get as good now, -sir, with your sinkers and your big lump of bait! -An’ you played ’em fine, both of ye! Lave off flopping, -will ye, and let me get a howlt of the fly—begob, -he have it ate, no less!” Norah’s trout was put out -of its misery by a quick blow on a thwart, and the -fly rescued. “There you are, miss, and he well over -a pound if he’s an ounce!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, daddy, isn’t he a beauty!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is, indeed,” Mr. Linton said, looking at the -golden-brown fish, with his splendid spots. “I -never saw a handsomer fellow. Is yours as good -Wally?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Betther, I believe,” boomed Patsy, a vision of -triumph. “They might be mates—but Mr. Wally’s -is bigger. Have ye the little spring-balance, sir? -Ye’d ought to weigh them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have it,” Wally said. “Eighteen ounces, Nor,—and -mine’s a pound and a half. Well-l!” He -drew a long breath. “If ever I say a word against -my little rod again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, wasn’t it glorious!” Norah uttered. “Will -those lines ever come clear, Patsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yerra, they will. Have patience, miss, and I’ll -get them undone in no time. Cast away now, Mr. -Jim—and heaven send he do not land his on the top -of this tangle!” added Mr. Burke, in pious hope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hurry up, Jim—it’s the best fun since we went -bombing!” said Wally. “Gives you a feeling like -nothing on earth, and the little rod’s just a live thing -in your hands. Glory! there’s one at you—ah, the -brute!” as a big trout rose at Jim’s fly, missed, and -went down, giving a full view of his beautiful speckled -side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cast over him again, Mr. Jim—that one’ll come -back,” Patsy whispered. “Gently—ah, that’s the -lovely throw!” The flies settled gently on the water, -but the trout failed to respond. “Thry him again, -sir—that’s it; dhraw them back quiet, now. Begob, -he have him—howld him, sir! Hark at the little -wheel singing: isn’t that the fine run he made! -Wind him in—don’t check him sudden.” Mr. Burke -babbled on happily until the third big trout lay gasping -in the landing-net.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t I tell you there’d be trout in Lough Nacurra?” -he demanded. “Oh, the beauties! them’s -the grand fish, entirely, no matter where you’d be -fishing. Let ye cast out again, sir. Aisy, Miss Norah, -let be—sure I’ll have it for ye quicker than ye would -yourself. There’s the terrible tangle now; ye’d not -get it in a knot like that, not if ye tried for a week. -And is it in Australia you’d get them like that, with -a stick and a sinker and a lump of bait? and play -them too, same as ye did them there? Well, well, -that must be the fine country!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Linton laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh there’s plenty of good trout-fishing in Australia, -Patsy, and plenty of people who use the proper -tackle. But it doesn’t happen to be in our part of -the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ye’ll not beat Irish trout, anywheres in the -world,” said Mr. Burke, shortly. “Them new countries -is all very well in their way, but give me the ould -places I’m after knowing all my life.” He drew a -long breath. “There—I have them untwisted at -last: and more by token, here we are at the end of the -lough.” He fixed Wally with an inquiring gaze. “It -was here you wanted to be landed, sir, wasn’t it? -Will I take down the rod and put you ashore?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally grinned in appreciation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s your game, Patsy,” he admitted, cheerfully. -“I take it all back. If you’ll just hand me that rod -again, you won’t get me off this lough before dark!”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch7'>CHAPTER VII<br/> <span class='sub-head'>LOUGH ANOOR</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“A capital ship for an ocean trip</p> -<p class='line0'>Was the Walloping Window-Blind.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Students’ Song.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>F</span>ROM that day the spell of the little brown trout -laid itself upon the Australians. The basket -of fish which they carried home with pride in the -evening, and which caused Mrs. Moroney to call upon -the saints to protect her, was the forerunner of many, -since the weather was kind and Lough Nacurra had -profited by its war-time rest to become the happiest -of hunting grounds. Day after day, with and without -Mr. Burke, whose multifarious duties often called -him elsewhere, they visited the little lough in the -bog, until they knew all its best spots as well as Patsy -himself, and were familiar with every inch of the -wooded island where they generally landed for lunch. -With the fever of fishing came to them the patience -which—curiously enough—accompanies it, making -them content to sit hour after hour if rewarded with -an occasional rise: since no lough on this side of -Paradise could be expected to live up to the first -spectacular minutes in which Lough Nacurra had -claimed them for its own. Nevertheless, the little -lough held well; and trout figured largely on the -table for breakfast and dinner, insomuch that Mrs. -Moroney confided to Bridget that ’twas the grand -guests they were to be keeping down the expense—a -remark retailed to Jim by Timsy, in such innocent -certainty that his friend would be pleased, that -Jim could not find it in his heart to rebuke him for -repeating what he was not meant to hear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Day by day the air of moorland and mountain -worked the boys’ cure. Strength came back to them -quickly, with long days in the open and long nights -of quiet sleep. War seemed very far away. Papers -came irregularly, and the younger members of the -party were very willing to let Mr. Linton read them -and tell them anything startling, without troubling -about details. Little by little, the horror of the -gas faded; they ceased to dream about it, a nightly -torment which had kept them back for the first weeks. -The regiment was having a much-needed rest in billets: -Anstruther, Garrett, and their other chums were -fit and well, and longing for another chance of coming -to grips with the enemy. Much of the horror of -Gallipoli Mr. Linton succeeded in keeping from them: -too many of their school-fellows lay dead upon that -most cruel of battlefields, and he suppressed the papers -that gave details of the losses. The fog of war always -hangs closely: it was easy to make it hide from his -boys details of the news that had plunged Australia -alike into mourning and into deeper resolve to see -the thing through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For Norah and her father the time was an oasis of -peace in a desert of anxiety. Too soon they must -send Jim and Wally back, and themselves return to -work and wait in London. Now, nothing mattered -greatly, and they could try to forget. It was not -the least of David Linton’s happiness that each day -brought back light to Norah’s eyes and colour to her -cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they played about Ireland as they had played -all their lives in Australia. The Irish blood that was -in them made them curiously at home; they liked -the simple, kindly country-folk, and found a ready -welcome in the scattered cottages, where already Norah -had made friends with at least half a dozen babies. -Her education developed on new lines: she picked -up a good deal of Irish, and became steeped in the -innumerable legends of the country, not in the least -realizing that in being told the “ould ancient” stories -she was being paid a compliment for which the average -tourist might sigh in vain,—for the Irish peasant -is jealous of his folk-stories, and seldom tells them -to anyone not of the country. In the great stone -kitchen Mrs. Moroney gave her lessons in the manufacture -of potato-cakes, colcannon, soda-bread, and -other national delicacies, and, with old Nanny the -cook, listened to stories of Australia with frequent -ejaculations of “God help us!” while Jim and Wally -talked much to Patsy Burke and John Conolly, and to -the men in the villages, doing a little recruiting work -as occasion offered. They also talked of Australia, -since they could not help it, and became at times -slightly confused as to the number of men for whom -they had promised to find work after the war, on Billabong, -if possible. However, as Jim said resignedly -if Billabong overflowed with men, there were other -places—Australia was large and empty. They could -all come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you there, Norah? Coo-ee!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An answering “Coo-ee!” came from one of the -mouldering summer-houses in the garden, and Wally -plunged down the overgrown walk in its direction. -Norah was not in the summer-house, which she described -as an insecty place, but cross-legged on a sunny -patch of grass behind it, surrounded by innumerable -letters. The Australian mail had arrived that morning; -and, since mails in war time were apt to be -“hung up” until a ship could be found to take them, -letters were wont to accumulate in alarming quantities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious, are you still reading?” inquired -Wally. “I finished all mine ages ago: not that I -ever get such awful bundles as you do. Jim and -your father are plunged in business letters, and I’m -like Mary’s little lamb, or Bo-Peep’s sheep, or whichever -mutton it was that got lost.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor old thing!” said Norah, absently. “Never -mind; sit down and read dear old Brownie’s letter. -It takes one straight back to Billabong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, that’s no bad thing—though I’d like to see -a little more of Ireland,” said Wally, subsiding upon -grass. “Poor old Brownie! can’t you see her, -Nor, struggling over this in the kitchen at home. -She’d be so much happier over tackling a day’s baking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She would, indeed,” Norah assented, her eyes -a little misty. She touched the scrawled pages of -the old nurse-housekeeper’s letter, her hand resting -on it as though it were a living thing. Brownie had -been all the mother she had known, and the bond -between them was very close. The ill-written sheets -brought vividly to her the kind old face, beaming -with love as she had always known it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Miss Norah,” began Brownie, with due formality. -Then the formality slumped.</p> - -<div class='blockquote100percent'> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dearie, the place is lost without you all -everyone arsks me as soon as the male comes wots in -the letters and are you coming back soon the hot -whether is over thang goodness and we have had -good rain and the place is lookin splendid all the horses -are in great condishun and Murty says to tell you -Bosun is fit to jump out of his skin Murty won’t let -anyone but himself ride him or Garyowin or Monnuk -or the chesnet colt and it keeps him pretty busy keepin -them all exercised. Black Billy is no better than he -was he is a limb and no mistake it will be a mersy when -Mr. Jim comes back to keep that boy in order and -your Pa too he will not take no notice of anyone else. -We are always wonderin and hopin about the war will it -soon be over and that old Kyser hung and how are -Mr. Jim and Mr. Wally we all know they will fight as -well as any Englishman or any two Germans. But -the best of all will be when the old war is over and you -all come home to Billabong tell Mr. Wally I have not -forgot to make pikelits like he likes they will be waiting -for him we got their photergrafs in uniform and dont -they look beautiful only so grown up I keep thinking -of them just little boys ridin the ponies like they always -was in short pants and socks and plenty of -darnin they give me to do which it was always a pleasure -I’m sure do they look after you well in that old -London i hope they feed you proply in that big hotel -im told their sheets is always damp do be careful -dearie. We try to look after everything the way the -master and Mr. Jim would like it juring their absence -Murty is sendin word about the stock so i will leave -that part of it aloan the garden is lookin grand the -ortum roses all out just blazin along the walls and -fences there are other flowers but its no good i cant -spell them not being no hand with the pen but you -will know them all without me tellin the dogs are -well but they miss you like all the rest of us also the -Wallerby and so my dearie no more at present only -come back soon we all send our love and hoppin you -are well</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Brownie</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally put down the letter, after folding it slowly. -Norah, who had read it again over his shoulder, put -out her hand for it and tucked it into the pocket of -her coat. Neither spoke for awhile. Ireland had -faded away: they saw only a long low house with a -garden blazing with roses—a kitchen, spotless and -shining, where an old woman laboured mightily with -the pen. She was a fat old woman, plain and unromantic -and very practical; but the thought of her -brought home-sickness sharply to the boy and girl -sitting on the green slope of Irish turf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s an old brick,” said Wally, presently. “By -Jove, Nor, won’t it be jolly to go back when all this -show is over! It makes one feel sort of jumpy to think -of driving up to Billabong again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’M,” assented Norah, lucidly. Speech was a little -difficult just then. Presently she laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Australian mail-days are lovely, but they always -hurt a bit, too. Never mind, we’ll all go home -together some day, and Billabong will go quite mad, -and it will be worth having been away. What do we -do this morning, Mr. Second-Lieutenant Meadows?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t know,” Wally answered. “I think -you’d better choose your own amusement, Miss Linton-of-Billabong, -and I’ll fall in with it meekly. Jim and -your father have shut themselves up with piles of -business letters and stock reports and things like that, -and can’t come out before lunch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bother the old business!” said Norah, inelegantly, -wrinkling her nose, as was her way in deep thought. -“Wally, why shouldn’t we try Lough Anoor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s rather an idea—especially as Patsy’s engaged -to-day, and can’t act as boatman. We could -paddle round and try Lough Anoor by ourselves. -It won’t do Lough Nacurra any harm to have a rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; we’ve fished it pretty steadily lately,” -Norah agreed. “It would be rather fun to try a new -place. I’d like to take Timsy, if you don’t mind, -Wally. He’s such a jolly little chap, and it would -be a tremendous treat for him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good idea!” agreed Wally. “Great man, Timsy; -he’ll take charge of us and run the whole show, and -be entirely happy. Will you find him, Nor, while I -get the rods and basket?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy was never difficult to find, when the seekers -were the Australians. He was digging his bare brown -toes into the gravel by the front door when Norah and -Wally emerged from the garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you busy to-day, Timsy?” asked Norah, -gravely. One of the things that Timsy liked about -these people from the other side of the world was -that they always treated him as an equal in age and -sense, and did not “talk down” to him. He had -bitter memories of an English visitor who had addressed -him as “Little boy,” and of an elderly lady -who had patted him on the head, and called him -“dear.” His blood still boiled when he thought of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not,” he replied. “I’m after catching all -the chickens me mother wants,—and ’twas themselves -give me a fine hunt. Chickens do be always knowing -when they’re wanted to be kilt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you can’t blame them for running,” said -Norah. “No more jobs, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is not, miss. Me mother’s after telling -me to get out and play.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Wally and I are going to fish Lough Anoor,” -Norah said. “We haven’t been there yet, and we -don’t know much about it. Would you care to come, -too, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Swift delight leaped to the small boy’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it me? Sure, wouldn’t I be in your way, -miss?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’ll be very useful,” said Norah. “You’d -to come?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like!” said Timsy. Words failed him, and he -could only beam at them speechlessly. As they disappeared -into the house they heard suppressed yelps -of joy, and presently, from the front windows, beheld -Timsy energetically turning handsprings on the path, -in the effort to relieve his overcharged feelings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They took the track across the bog leading to Lough -Nacurra, skirted it, following a sheep-path along the -shore, and mounted a rise. Below them lay the little -lough they sought, a jewel in a setting of gently-rolling -hills. In one corner a number of queer, gnarled objects -showed above the surface of the water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are those, Timsy?” Wally asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’s ould limbs of trees, sir; the lough does -be low, and them ould things sticks out. Me daddy -says there was a mighty big forest here, one time: -there’s bog-wood everywhere in this part. There’s a -small little landing-stage near them, where the boat is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They plunged down hill. Arrived at the boat, -Wally whistled long and low.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be a boat, I suppose,” he said, doubtfully. -“Timsy said it was, and he ought to know. -But—Did you ever see anything quite like it, Nor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not,” Norah said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boat was flat-bottomed, clumsily and heavily -built. The paint which had originally declared her a -white vessel had long ago peeled off or faded to a -yellowish grey. She squatted on the water like a -very flat duck, and water lay in her, and evidently -had lain long. There were no oars, and nothing that -could be used to bale. Altogether, no craft could -have looked less tempting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Jim reckoned the boat on Lough Aniller -bad, and the Nacurra one only fit for a museum,” -Wally said. “I’d like him to see this one: it would -do his old heart good. Timsy, how does one row a -boat in this country when there are no oars?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy, thus appealed to, gave as his opinion that -the paddles would be up at Michael McCarthy’s house, -beyant; further, that if Patsy knew how the said -Michael McCarthy had the boat left, he’d have him -destroyed. “Let ye sit down, sir, and Miss Norah, -too,” concluded the small boy, shouldering the burden -of the responsibility. “I’ll slip up and bring the -paddles and a baling-tin down in no time at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t,” said Wally, firmly. “I’m in this job, -Timsy. Come along and we’ll interview Mr. McCarthy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That gentleman, however, was from home, his -place being taken by a lame son, who produced two -oars which were not even distantly related to each -other, remarking that his father was wore out with -keeping the boat in order for the gentry, and none -of them coming anigh her. When Wally demanded -a baling-tin, he cast about him a wild glance which -finally rested on an excellent tin dipper which presumably -belonged to his mother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Herself is away with the hins—let you take it,” -he said, thankfully. “Hiven send she do not come -back on me before you’d be gone!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With this pious hope echoing in their ears, the -marauding party withdrew, Timsy racing ahead with -the dipper, lest “herself” should make an untimely -appearance and demand her cherished vessel. When -Norah and Wally arrived at the boat he was baling -furiously, and clung to his job until he was too breathless -to argue the question further with Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A flat-bottomed boat, built on elementary principles, -is not the easiest thing to empty. They tilted -her sideways, getting very wet in the process, and -wielded the dipper until it scraped dismally against -the boards; but a large residue of water still lingered, -defying anything but a pump or a bath-sponge, equipment -which they lacked. When they restored her to -an even keel the water slapped dismally across the -sodden bottom boards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid we’ll never get her dry,” Wally said, -ruefully. “Tell you what, Norah—I’ll put in a few -bits of wood, and you can put your feet on them; -that will keep them out of the water, at any rate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wood is scarce in Donegal. There was not a bit -to be found except the tough lumps of bog-wood -sticking out of the water, and of these Wally managed -to secure enough for his purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They aren’t lovely,” he said, looking at the uneven -logs. “Still, they ought to keep your feet dry, and -that’s something.” He worked the unwieldy boat -round until her stern pointed to the shore, so that -Norah could get in without being compelled to walk -along the wet floor. Timsy hopped in, bare-legged -and cheery, and they shoved off, moving gingerly -among the half-submerged wood, which threatened -momentarily to rip a hole in the rotten flooring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d hate to say a word against Ireland,” Wally -remarked. “But you’d wonder why they’d build -the landing-stage in the very middle of a submerged -forest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The stones did be a thrifle more convanient there.” -Timsy offered as a solution.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—maybe. Still it would be no great lift to -take them a little further,” said Wally. “Does the -boat never get snagged, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She do, sir. Many’s the time me daddy’s mended -her, and he at home. There’s no one to do it now, till -I get a bit bigger—Patsy he’s destroyed with work, -he says, and he can’t be lugging tools all this way, -says he. And that Michael McCarthy, he’s no use at -all in the world.” Timsy knitted his brows, a worried -little figure. “It’ll be a good thing when the ould -war is over and all them Germans kilt. Then me -daddy’ll come back and fix everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you rather he hadn’t gone, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The small boy’s lip trembled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Twas awful when he went. Me mother cried, -and so did old Nanny and Bridget. But me mother -and me daddy they says there’s no dacint man can -stop out of it. I wisht I was big enough to go too. -Will they take drummer-boys in your regiment, Mr. -Wally? I’m pretty big when I howld meself straight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid you’ve got to be a bit bigger yet, old -man,” Wally told him. “But you’ve got to be here, -to keep an eye on the place; it must be a great comfort -to your daddy to know you’re here, to look after -your mother. There must be a certain number of -fellows at home to mind Ireland in case the Germans -should send troops here, you know; so we leave those -at home who are too young or too old to march fast, -and carry heavy loads, and do rough digging. You’re -doing your bit as long as you’re helping at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that so, truly?” said Timsy, much cheered. -“And could I go when I’m bigger?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you could, if the war is still there,” -Wally answered, cheerfully. “Only we hope it won’t -be. You’ll be able to fight much better in the next -war if you have your daddy home to train you first. -It isn’t every fellow who can have a sergeant all on -himself to train him, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d be in great luck, wouldn’t I?” said the small -boy, hopefully. “But sure, we’ll all be in the heighth -of luck once we get daddy home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally had poled the old boat out of the submerged -trees, with many a bump and scrape that made him -look apprehensively at the boards. The gaunt and -stunted tree-ghosts ceased, and the water deepened, -so he took to the oars. They pulled up against a -freshening breeze to the head of the lough, where -Wally shipped the paddles thankfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a great pair of oars,” said he. “One -weighs a ton and the other only a hundredweight, so -pulling becomes a matter of scientific adjustment. -Well, we’ll drift down, Nor, and see what Lough -Anoor holds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That the little lough held trout was made clear -within the first five minutes, when a fish rose at Norah, -who struck too hard and missed it, to her intense disgust. -Luck favoured her, however, for it was a hungry -trout and came at her gamely on the next cast, this -time departing with an annoying mouthful of steel -and feathers instead of the plump fly he had hoped -to engulf. He came to the surface after an exciting -few minutes, and, being very thoroughly hooked, -survived three ineffectual attempts by Wally to get -the landing-net under him. The fourth landed him -in the bottom of the boat, both operators slightly -breathless, while Timsy, scarlet with excitement, -jigged on his seat and uttered sage counsel which -no one heard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Awfully sorry, Nor,—I nearly lost that fellow -for you,” Wally exclaimed. “Scooping up a jumping -fish with that old net is much harder than playing -him, I think: I have the utmost respect for Patsy -every time he uses it. Never saw him make a mistake -yet. I say, young Norah, what’s the good of my -putting down a floor of bog-wood for you? Your -feet are soaking!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah glanced down, still flushed with the pride -of capture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry, truly,” she said, laughing. “You see, -I can’t possibly play a fish sitting down; I’ve just -<span class='it'>got</span> to stand up. And I tried to stand on those old -lumps of wood, but they simply turned over and -deposited me in the water. Never mind, Wally, it -isn’t the first time I’ve had wet feet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t go and collect a cold, or your father and -Jim will have my blood,” said Wally, doubtfully. -“You’ll have to land and run about if you get chilly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I said, ‘Land my grandmother!’ it would be -rude, so I won’t,” said Norah, who was casting again -vigorously. “Quick, Wally, there’s a rise near you!”—and -Mr. Meadows forgot prudence in the excitement -of trout. At the end of the drift the basket held four -fish, while a fifth had made his escape at the very -edge of the boat, and was doubtless in some snug hole, -reflecting on the Providence which helps little trout -by entrusting the landing-net to inexperienced hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind had risen, and to pull the heavy, water-logged -old boat up the lough was no easy task. There -was no rudder, and she steered very badly, her awkwardness -intensified by the unequal oars. The waves -slapped against her side, and occasionally flung in a -little cloud of spray, and she leaked fast. Norah -baled energetically, with poor results.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a noble vessel,” said Wally, pulling with a -will. “Feel her wallow in the trough of these silly -little waves. I guess we’ll call her ‘The Walloping -Window-Blind,’ Nor, after the boat in the song. -Can you swim, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot, sir,” said Timsy, grinning. “Sure -that one won’t sink on us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blest if I know,” Wally answered, doubtfully. -“I wouldn’t be surprised at any old thing she’d do. -Anyhow, Miss Norah and I can rescue you if she -goes down; and the water isn’t very cold. Timsy, -did you ever hear the sergeant’s opinion of this boat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy’s grin widened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did, sir,” he said, with probably prudent reticence. -“Sure, there’s no one does be liking her in -these parts. She’s not an aisy puller at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True for you,” said Wally, panting. “Thank -goodness, here’s the end of the lough. Hurry up, -Nor, she’ll drift back quickly before this wind, and -they ought to be rising.” His flies whistled out over -the dancing water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’d let me have the net itself I could be landing -the fish for you,” said Timsy, eagerly. “I’ve -landed ’em for me daddy many a time—he taught me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good man—what the sergeant taught you is good -enough for us,” said Wally. “Stand by, then—I’ve -got a beauty on. He’s pulling like fury.” He played -the fish dexterously, his keen, brown face eager. -“Come on, you monster—I’d bet he weighs a pound, -Norah! Ready, Timsy?—he’s about done—ah, good -kid!” as the small boy slipped the net under the -struggling fish with all the deftness of Mr. Burke himself. -“Oh, a beauty! And to think we used to -imagine that a hand-line was sport!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You live and learn,” said Norah, sagely. “That’s -the biggest yet, Wally, and didn’t he fight! Oh, I’ve -got one!—be ready, Timsy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy crouched, alert, his hard little hand gripping -the net. The fish was a strong one and fought hard -for his life; again and again he ran the line out, even -when almost at the side of the boat. Norah reeled -him in at last, almost done, but still fighting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, be careful, and he lepping!” Timsy uttered. -“If you take the strain off when he’s hooked slightly -he’ll get off on you. Isn’t he the great fighter entirely! -Quick, miss, I’ll get him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dived at him with the net. The trout leaped -to one side, a wave hiding his flashing golden-brown -body; and Timsy, following a thought too far, overbalanced, -and shot head first into the water. Wally, -casting in the bow, did not see. Norah had a moment’s -vision of the slight childish body as the brown water -closed over him. He had not uttered a sound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wally, quick—the oars!” she gasped, dropping -her rod. The boat was drifting fast before the wind. -She watched, knowing that Timsy would be far beyond -their reach when he came to the surface. Then -the little head appeared for an instant and she sprang -into the water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A year earlier, Wally would have followed without -a thought. But training and experience had steadied -him; he knew that in the boat he would be far more -use than in the rough water, with the wind taking the -‘Walloping Window-Blind,’ their one refuge, swiftly -away from them. He flung himself at the oars and -steadied her, watching, his heart in his mouth. Norah -swam like a fish, he knew; but the water was rough, -and Timsy would be a dead weight, even supposing -that she had been able to grip him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, to his utter relief, the two heads broke the -water together. He heard Norah’s voice: “Hold my -shoulder, Timsy—you’re all right. Don’t be scared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be beside you in a second, Nor,” Wally shouted. -“Just keep paddling.” He pulled the clumsy boat -frantically up the lough, and let her drop down to -Norah, shipping the oars as he reached her. Leaning -over, he gripped Timsy firmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold on to the kid, and I’ll pull you both to the -boat,” he said. “Can you catch it?—I’ve got him.” -He waited until Norah’s hand gripped the side. -“That’s right—let him go. Come on, Timsy.” He -hauled the silent small boy into the boat and turned -back to Norah. “Hang on to me, old girl—thank -goodness we can’t pull this old tub over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a struggle, and Norah came over the side, -scrambling in with difficulty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Timsy all right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am, miss,” said a small voice, between chattering -teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally flung off his coat, and wrapped it round the -child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor old chap—that will keep the wind off you a -bit,” he said. “Norah, get hold of the oars and pull -in—you’ll be nearly as quick as I would be, and it -will keep you warmer. My Aunt! that kid hung -on to the landing-net all the time! Well, you are -a good sort, Timsy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dunno why would I let it go,” shivered Timsy. -“Bad enough for me to be such an omadhaun, to be -falling in—and herself going after me! Me mother’ll -be fit to tear the face off me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’ll be too glad to see you alive,” said Wally, -reassuringly. “We’ll——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Timsy interrupted him with a cry. He caught -Norah’s neglected rod.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Howly Mother, but the fish is in it yet!” he -shouted. “Oh, will ye come, please, sir!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They landed the trout between them, Timsy recovering -some measure of his self-respect by being -allowed to use the net.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He had it nearly swallowed—if he hadn’t, he’d -have been gone this long time,” he chattered, watching -Wally disengage the hook. “Isn’t it the grand luck -we’re in! and he the beautifullest trout! Oh, why -would I want to be falling in, and the fish rising!” -He looked wistfully at Norah. “Tis all wet ye are, -and the day spoilt on ye,” he said, sadly. “You won’t -never take me out again, Miss Norah.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t we just!” said Norah, smiling at him -through a tangle of wet hair. “We don’t get out -of friends because of a trifle like that, Timsy.” She -brought the “Walloping Window-Blind” floundering -against the shore. “There! it would warm an iceberg -to pull that old tub. Come along, Timsy, and I’ll -race you home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally put a detaining hand on her arm as he turned -from securing the boat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure you’re all right, Nor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Right as—as anything,” said Norah, laughing at -the anxious face. “I believe you’re growing careful, -Wally—what’s come to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s all very well,” said Wally, unhappily. “Do -you think it’s jolly for a fellow to see you pitching -into a beastly lough? And I’m going home dry, and -you and the kid wet. If there was any sense in it -I’d jump in and get wet, too!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only there isn’t,” said Norah—“and it was -lucky for the two wet ones that you were dry in the -boat. An old and hardened warrior like you ought -to have more common sense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I ought,” said Wally, relapsing into a -smile. “Only . . . Oh, well. Now we’ve got to -run, or we’ll never catch young Timsy.”</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo118.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“Norah had read it over his shoulder.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab5' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab5c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab5c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page 118</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo128.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“Then the little head appeared for an instant and she sprang into the water.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab6' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab6c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab6c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page 128</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='ch8'>CHAPTER VIII<br/> <span class='sub-head'>JOHN O’NEILL</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“A fiery soul, which, working out its way,</p> -<p class='line0'>Fretted the pigmy body to decay.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;'><span class='sc'>Dryden.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>  “And we’re hanging out the sign</p> -<p class='line0'>  From the Leeuwin to the Line:</p> -<p class='line0'>‘This bit of the world belongs to US!’ ”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>T</span>HE words came floating down the hillside at -the top of a cheery young baritone. Also -down the hillside came sounds of haste—heavy footsteps, -crashing undergrowth, and rustling of bracken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hill sloped steeply, ending with an abrupt -plunge into a boreen below: a little winding lane, -walled in by high banks, clad with heather and furze, -and all abloom with wild flowers. The main road -ran westward, dusty and hot in the June sunlight; -but the boreen was all in shade, twisting its way in -and out between the hills. The dew was yet on its -grass, though in the blossoming furze above, fringing -the banks, the bees droned heavily, winging their -busy way among the hot sweetness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The noise overhead came nearer, and there came -into the song staccato notes never intended by the -composer, as the singer half-slid, half-plunged, down -the hillside, taking inequalities in the ground with -long strides. Nevertheless, the voice persevered, -happy, if disjointed, until it was just above the boreen. -Then the song and the hurrying footsteps ceased together, -and there was a pause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wire!” said Wally’s disgusted tones. “And -barbed, at that! Didn’t we have enough in France!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wire was half-hidden in the tangle of grass and -furze; a tense strand twanged as his boot caught it -in clambering over. His thin face showed for a -moment, peeping over into the boreen. There was -nothing to do but slither, and slither he did, landing -in the little lane with a mighty thud, and bringing -with him a shower of furze blossoms, and clattering -stones and clods. They fell close to a man sitting -on a fragment of rock and leaning back against the -bank. He had not stirred at the commotion overhead, -and now he sat motionless, looking up at the -tall lad with a faint smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon!” said Wally, abashed. “I -say. I hope nothing hit you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man on the boulder shook his head. It was a -big head, with a wide brow and lines of pain round the -eyes; but he was a small man, and the hand lying -on the knee of his rough tweed suit was startlingly -thin. Even as he leaned back against the bank it -was easy to see that his shoulders were misshapen and -humped. Wally glanced once, and withdrew his eyes -hurriedly, with a boy’s instinctive dread of appearing -to notice anything amiss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beastly careless of me!” he said, apologetically. -“I never thought of anyone being down below.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you gave enough warning that you were -coming,” said the man. “Anyone remaining below -did so entirely at his own risk. Do you always come -down a hill in that fashion, may I ask?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally grinned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not always,” he admitted. “But it was a jolly -hill; and it had taken me such a time to climb up it -that I had a fancy to see how quickly I could get -down. And I was feeling awfully fit. It’s so jolly -to be feeling well—makes you act like a kid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be jolly,” said the other, laconically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally flushed hotly, in dread of having hurt him. -It was painfully clear that to feel well was not a common -experience for the man on the boulder. He had -a sudden wild desire to undo the impression of exuberant -health and spirits. The tired eyes were even -harder to face than the twisted shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Been an awful crock, really,” he said, sitting -down on another fragment of rock. “Gassed—over -there.” He nodded vaguely in the direction—more -or less—of Europe. “Makes you feel like nothing -on earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” asked the other, with -swift interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather. We didn’t get anything like a full dose, -of course, or we wouldn’t be here. But even a little -is rather beastly. And the worst of it is, that it -hangs on to you long after you’re better—it seems to -lurk down somewhere inside you, and gets hold of you -just as you’re beginning to think you’re really all -right. It actually makes a fellow think he’s got -nerves!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t look like it,” said the man, laughing -for the first time. The brown, boyish face did not -suggest such attributes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it truly does make one pretty queer,” said -Wally, laughing too. “However, I believe we’ve -nearly got rid of it—this country of yours is enough -to make us forget it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re Australian, aren’t you?” the man asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally nodded. “How did you know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, this is a little place,” said the other. “Strangers -are our only excitement, and since the war started -we haven’t had nearly so many. All the people who used -to come here to fish are away fighting.” He sighed. -“Most of them will not come back any more. You -were quite a godsend to us. Your boatman told one -of my men about you; and the baker’s boy tells -the cook; and the butcher tells every one; and the -postmistress is simply full of news about you. As -for the shops, they are fairly buzzing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, there are only two,” said Wally, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s why they buzz,” said the man. “I don’t -go into shops, myself; but I have been altogether -unable to repress the delighted confidences of my -chauffeur. He tells me that you’re all very keen -fishermen——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And don’t know a thing about it!” said Wally. -“Did he tell you that, too?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He said you were getting on,” said the other, -guardedly, his eyes twinkling. The chauffeur’s confidences -had probably been ample. “But your stories -of Australia have them all fascinated, and if they -weren’t—most of them—grandfathers, they would -probably emigrate in a body. Thank goodness, -though, we’ve not many slackers here: almost all -our young men are fighting. My chauffeur, poor lad, -lost a leg at Ypres. His wooden leg is fairly satisfactory, -but of course he can’t go back, much as he -wants to. We’re nearly all old men or—cripples”—his -voice was suddenly bitter: “and it’s rather pleasant -to see young faces again. You bring the stir of -the world with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve had so much stir that we were uncommonly -glad to get away from it,” Wally answered. “And -this is a jolly place; if there were more big timber -it would be nearly as good as our bush-country.” He -paused, cheerfully certain of having paid Ireland the -highest possible compliment: then he rose. “I must -be getting back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man on the boulder rose also, slowly. When -he stood up, his crooked shoulders became more evident. -He took one or two steps slowly and painfully. -Then he staggered, stretching an uncertain hand -towards the bank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I help you?” It was impossible to pretend -any longer not to notice: he was swaying, and Wally -was beside him with a swift stride. The other caught -at the strong young arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you,” he said, presently. There were -drops of perspiration on his brow, but his voice was -steady. “I’m something of a crock myself, and -this happens to be one of my bad days. I came up -here because I couldn’t stand the car any more—it’s -waiting for me on the road. If you would not mind -helping me——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went along the boreen slowly, between the -blossoming banks. The man rested heavily on Wally’s -arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure I’m not tiring you?” he asked, once. -“You’re not fit yourself, yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m all right,” Wally answered. “Please -lean as much as you like. Would you like a rest?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—we’re nearly there. And I’m better.” His -face was white, but he smiled up at the tall boy. Then -a turn in the lane brought the high road in view, and, -drawn up by the side, a big touring-car. The chauffeur, -drowsing in his seat in the sun, became suddenly -awake. He limped quickly towards his master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure I knew you had no right to be going up there -alone,” he said, reproachfully. “Will you give me -the other arm, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right, Con. This gentleman has helped -me splendidly.” But he put a hand on the chauffeur’s -sleeve, more, Wally fancied, to pacify him than because -he needed extra help.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the car, he leaned back with a sigh of relief. It -was luxuriously padded, and there were special cushions -that the chauffeur adjusted with a practised hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Awfully sorry to have been such a nuisance,” -he said. “Thanks ever so much; you saved me a -rather nasty five minutes.” He looked wistfully at -Wally. “I suppose you wouldn’t come home with -me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally hesitated. He wanted badly to get back -to his party and to the trout that were so tantalizing -and so engrossing. But there was something hard -to resist in the tired eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would be doing me a real kindness,” said -the other. “I can send word to your friends——” -He broke off. “Oh, it’s hardly fair to ask you—you -didn’t come here to muddle about with a sick man. -Never mind—I’ll get you to come over some day when -I’m more fit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d like to,” said Wally, cheerfully; “but I’m -coming now, as well, if I may.” He hopped into the -car, and sat down. “If you could let them know, I -should be glad—they may be waiting for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are they?—at the hotel?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, they’re fishing Lough Nacurra. I said I -would turn up about twelve and hail them; it’s Australian -mail-day, and I’ve been posting the family’s letters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If doesn’t seem fair to keep you,” said the car’s -owner. “But these days I dread my own company. -So if you’ll come to lunch with me I’ll send you back -to them in good time to get a few trout before the -evening. Home, Con.” The car started gently, and -he leaned back and closed his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally felt slightly bewildered. Here was he, in -company with a man whose name he did not know, and -who was apparently going to sleep—both of them -being whisked through the peaceful Irish landscape -at an astonishing rate of speed in a motor which surpassed -anything he had ever imagined in luxury of -fittings. It was a very large car: four people could -easily have found room in the seat he shared with his -silent host, and there were, in addition, three little -arm-chairs which folded flat when not in use. It was -splendidly upholstered, and there were electric lamps -in cunning places, and many of what Wally termed -“contraptions”; pockets and flaps for holding papers, -a clock and speedometer, and a silver vase in which -nodded two perfect roses. Wally infinitely preferred -horses to motors: but this was indeed a motor -to be respected, and he gazed about him with frank -interest, which did not abate when he found that his -host was looking at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was admiring your car,” he said. “It’s a -beauty; I don’t think I ever saw such a big one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I use it as a bedroom very often,” said the -other. “I like knocking about in it; and I hate -hotels; so Con and I live in the car when we go touring, -and he cooks for me, camp-fashion. This seat makes -a very good bed; and I have various travelling fixtures -that screw on here and there when they are -needed, or live under the seat. I planned it myself, -and I don’t think there’s a foot of waste space in it. -Con sleeps in the front seat. We have an electric -cooker, and he turns out uncommonly good meals. -Of course, if we encounter really bad weather we have -to put in for shelter, but I’m glad to say that doesn’t -often happen to us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How jolly!” Wally exclaimed. “I suppose -you’ve been all over Ireland in that way?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ireland—Scotland—England: and most of Europe -and America,” said his host. “I’m an idle man, you -see, and travelling, if I can do it in my own fashion, -makes amends for a good many things I can’t have.” -The weariness came back into his face. “I might as -well introduce myself,” he said; “I forgot that I had -kidnapped you without the civility of telling you my -name, which is O’Neill—John O’Neill. I live at -Rathcullen House, where we shall be in another minute -or two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Memory came back to Wally of a road perched -above the lough, and of a little runabout car driven by a -man in motor-goggles: and of the boatman’s confidences.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you’re Sir John O’Neill?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—the first part of it doesn’t matter. The -line goes back a good way, but I’m the last of it. But -the old house is rather jolly; I hope you will all come -and see it as often as you can spare the time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The car swung off the road as he spoke, and through -a great gateway where beautiful gates of wrought -iron stood open between massive stone pillars. A -little gabled lodge, with windows of diamond lattice-work, -was just within: a pleasant-faced woman in -pursuit of a fleeing mischievous child stopped, smiled, -and dropped a curtsey, while the three-year-old atom -she had been chasing bobbed down in ridiculous imitation, -her elfish face breaking into smiles in its tangle -of dark curls. John O’Neill smiled in return; and -the car sped on smoothly, up a wide avenue lined -with enormous beech-trees, arching and meeting overhead -so that they seemed to be driving into a tunnel -of perfect green. Between their mighty trunks Wally -caught glimpses of a wide park, where little black -Kerry cattle grazed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For over a mile the avenue ran its winding way -through the park. Then the trees ceased, and they -came out into a clear space of terraced lawn, blazing -with flower-beds, and sloping down to a lake fringed -with ornamental plants, and dotted with many-coloured -water-lilies, among which paddled lazily -some curious waterfowl which Wally had never seen. -Beyond the lawn stood a long grey house; a house -of old grey stone, of many gables, clad in ivy and -Virginia creeper. Even to the Australian boy’s eyes -it was mellow with the dignity of centuries. It was -not imposing or majestic, like the old houses he had -seen in England; but about it hovered an atmosphere -of high breeding and of quiet peace: a house of memories, -tranquil in its beauty and in its dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The car came to rest gently beside a stone step, and -in an instant a white-haired old butler was at the -door, offering his arm to his master. John O’Neill -got out slowly, and limped up the steps to the great -doorway, where an Irish wolf-hound stood, looking -at him with liquid eyes of welcome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say—what a jolly dog!” Wally uttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, he’s rather a nice old chap,” said his host. -“Shake hands, Lomair”; and the big dog put a paw -gravely into Wally’s hand. He followed his master -into the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great square hall was panelled with old oak, -almost black in the subdued light within. A staircase, -with wide, shallow steps, wound its way in a long -curve to a gallery overhead: and at the far end, an -enormous fireplace was filled with evergreens. Eastern -rugs lay on the polished oaken floor; in one corner a -stand of flowering plants made a sheet of colour. On -the walls were splendid heads—deer of many kinds, -markhor, ibex, koodoo, and two heads with enormous -spreading antlers, stretching, from tip to tip, fully -eleven feet. They drew an exclamation from Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They belonged to the old Irish elk,” O’Neill explained. -“He must have been a pretty big fellow; -a pity civilization proved too much for him. He has -been extinct thousands of years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fancy seeing a herd of those fellows!” Wally -exclaimed, gazing in admiration at the noble head. -“But however would he get those antlers through -timber?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think he frequented forests much,” O’Neill -said. “The plains suited him better. But he must -have been able to lay his horns right back—all deer -can do that when necessary. I dare say he could dodge -through trees at a good rate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he looks as if he could hardly have got -through the doorway of a Town Hall,” Wally commented. -“You have a splendid lot of heads. Did -you shoot them yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A few—I can’t do much stalking,” O’Neill said. -“I got those two tigers, but that was from the back -of an elephant. My father shot most of the others; -he was a mighty hunter. The trout were mine”—he -indicated some huge stuffed specimens, in glass -cases, on the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re splendid,” Wally said, regarding his host -with much admiration. “And you actually shot the -tigers! Was it very exciting?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—the trout took far more killing. The elephants -and the beaters did most of the work so far -as the tigers were concerned; it was only a sort of -arm-chair performance on my part. I simply sat in a -fairly comfortable howdah and fired when I was told -to do so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It sounds simple, but—well, I’d like to have the -chance. And you must have shot straight,” Wally -said. He glanced from the grim masks to the slight -figure with ungainly shoulders, marvelling in his heart -at the contrast between hunter and hunted. At the -moment John O’Neill did not look capable of killing -a mouse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dropped in to a big arm-chair, motioning Wally -to another. The colour was returning to his face, -and his eyes began to lose their pain-filled expression. -In the big chair’s depths he looked smaller than ever; -but his eyes were very bright, and soon Wally forgot -his morning’s fishing and altogether lost sight of his -host’s infirmities in the fascination of his talk. Half-crippled -as he was, he had been everywhere, and done -many things that stronger men long vainly to do. He -had travelled widely, and not as the average tourist, -who skims over many experiences without gathering -the cream of any. John O’Neill had gone off the -beaten track in search of the unusual, and he had -found it in a dozen different countries. He had hunted -and fished; had shot big game in India and made -his way up unknown rivers in South America, until -sickness had forced him to abandon enterprise and -return to civilization to save his life. Wandering in -the bypaths of the world, he had brought home a -harvest of queer experiences; he told them simply, -with a twinkle in his eye and a quick joy in the humorous -that often left his hearer shaking with laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally listened in growing wonderment and a great -sense of pity. If this man, so cruelly handicapped, -had already done so much, what might he not have -done, given a straight and sound body! Yet how he -had accomplished even the tenth part of what he had -done was a mystery. Wally looked at the frail, slight -figure with respectful amazement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>John O’Neill broke off presently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I rattle along at a terrible rate when I’m lucky -enough to find a listener,” he said. “And lately I’ve -been horribly sick of my own society. You see, they -wouldn’t have me in any capacity at the Front; I -offered to do anything, and I did think they might -have let me drive an ambulance; but an ambulance -driver over there really has to be a hefty chap, able -to put his shoulder literally to the wheel when a -road goes to pieces in front of him, owing to a shell -lobbing on it; and of course they said I wouldn’t do, -so soon as they looked at me. So I went to London -and did Red Cross work and recruiting—and overdid -it, like a silly ass. Broke down, and had to crawl -home and be ill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hard luck!” said Wally, sympathetically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stupidity, you mean,” remarked his host. “A -man ought to know when he has had enough, whether -it’s work or beer. But it’s not easy to stand aside -when all the lucky people—like you—are playing the -real game. At best, mine was only an imitation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t agree with you,” Wally said, warmly. -“We can’t all fight—the rest of the country has to -carry on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, there are enough slackers and shirkers -to do that,” O’Neill said. “And anyhow, I couldn’t -even carry on at what I did attempt to do. Never -mind—tell me your own adventures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally’s story of war did not take long in the telling; -but he spun it out as much as possible, switching from -war to Australia in response to the eager questions of -the man in the big leather chair. John O’Neill was a -curious blending: at one moment almost savagely -cynical and despondent, as his own physical handicap -weighed upon him: at the next, laughing like a boy, -and full of a boy’s keen interest in what he had not -seen. Australian talk held him closely attentive: -it was almost the only corner of the world that he -had not visited, but he meant to go there, he said, -after the war. Travelling by sea was unpleasant enough -at any time without the added chance of an impromptu -ducking if a submarine or a mine came across you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do they all buck—your horses?” he asked. -“I can ride a bit, but a buckjumper would be beyond -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally reassured him as to the manners of Australian -steeds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a general impression in England that we -all live in red shirts, in the bush, and ride fiery, untamed -steeds,” said he, laughing. “It goes with -the universal belief that all Australia is tropical. I’ve -tried to tell fellows in England that there are parts -of Australia where we have a pretty decent imitation -of Swiss winter sports—skiing, skating, and all the -rest of it; but they look on me with polite disbelief. -They can’t—or won’t—understand that Australia -stretches over enough of the map to have a dozen -different kinds of climate. Not that it matters, anyhow; -I don’t think we expect people to be wildly -interested in us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll know more about you by the time the war is -over,” his host suggested.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—I suppose so. Lots of our fellows will come -to London; we’re all awfully keen to see it, and it’s -a great chance for us. I only hope we shall take a -lot of your men back with us; they’re falling over -each other in England—or will be, once the war is -over: and we want them. We needed them badly -enough before the war: afterwards it will be worse -than ever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you preach emigration in Ireland,” said -O’Neill, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not? They emigrate, whether you preach -or not; only they go to America and Canada, because -they’re near and there’s nothing between them and -Ireland. They would probably do much better if -they would come to Australia, only they don’t know -a thing about it. I told one old woman a few things -about Australia and wages there, and all she could -say was, ‘God help us!’ When I’d finished, she -said. ‘And Australy’d be somewhere in Americy, -wouldn’t it, dear?’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you say, ‘God help us’?” laughed O’Neill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might have,” grinned Wally. “They know -Canada—but then, look what Canada is!” He gave -a mock shiver—Wally had been reared in hot Queensland. -“As one Canadian chap said to me, after -visiting our irrigation settlements—‘I don’t know -why people come to us instead of to you: just look -at the climate you’ve got—and we have three seasons -in the year—July, August, and winter!’ But I suppose -they seem nearer home, and they can’t realize -that when you once get on a ship you might as well -be there for a month as a week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The white-haired butler announced luncheon, and -they found the table laid in the bow-window of a long -and lofty room, whence could be seen the park, ending -in a glimpse of bog and heather, with a flash of blue -that meant a little lough caught among the hills. -Afterwards, they strolled out on the terrace and -through the scented garden to the stables, where two -fine hunters and some useful ponies made friends with -Wally instantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Government took most of my horses when -war broke out; but I managed to keep these two,” -said O’Neill, his hand on an arching neck while a soft -muzzle sought in his pocket for a carrot. “I’d sooner -have paid what they were worth than let them go; -they’re too good for war treatment, unless it were -absolutely necessary. And thank goodness this is not -a war of horses. Would you care to try one of these -fellows, some day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t I!” said Wally, beaming. “And—could -Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course—and what about Jim’s sister? Does -she ride?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She does,” said Wally, suppressing a smile at that -incomplete statement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rides anything that ever looked through a bridle, -I suppose,” said his host, watching him. “She looks -a workmanlike person. That brown pony is pretty -good; she might like him. I can show you all a bit -of Irish jumping—ditches and banks instead of your -fly fences.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll probably fall off,” said Wally, with conviction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you’ll find the falling softer than in Australia,” -O’Neill said, consolingly. “But I don’t fancy -you will give us much fun that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The motor waited at the hall door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Con will drop you near your people,” O’Neill -said. “I’d like to come with you—but if I overdo -things to-day I’ll pay to-morrow; and I’m anxious to -see the last of this attack. Will you tell Mr. Linton -I hope to call on him in a few days?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll be awfully glad to see you,” Wally said. -“And thanks ever so for giving me such a good time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill laughed. “Is it me now, to be giving you -a good time?” he said. “I thought ’twas the other -way round it was. You have helped me through a stiff -day, and I’m very grateful.” He shook hands warmly, -and the motor whirred away.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo132.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>He fell close to a man sitting on a fragment of rock and leaning back against the bank.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab7' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab7c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab7c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page 132</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='ch9'>CHAPTER IX<br/> <span class='sub-head'>PINS AND PORK</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“Sure, this is blessed Erin, an’ this the same glen;</p> -<p class='line0'>The gold is on the whin-bush, the wather sings again:</p> -<p class='line0'>The Fairy Thorn’s in flower—an’ what ails my heart then?”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Moira O’Neil.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>‟W</span>ELL—of all the deserters!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it me?” asked Wally, modestly. -He made an enormous stride from a half-submerged -stone into the boat, and nearly lost his balance, collapsing -in the stern.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You!” said Jim, steadying the boat, which endeavoured, -under the assault, to bury her nose in a -muddy bank of rushes. “You, that was going to -catch several hundred trout, and instead cleared -out——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a plutocratic motor,” said Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With a bloated aristocrat,” added Jim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And never said good-bye!” finished Mr. Linton, -with an artistic catch in his voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did,” said Wally: “I did it all. And I didn’t -want to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sounds of disbelief rose from his hearers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t snort,” said the victim, inelegantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it betters your case to describe our -just indignation as snorting,” said Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you were to grovel it would become you better,” -said Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in this boat,” hastily remarked her father. -“It isn’t planned for gymnastics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s too well-fed to grovel, anyhow,” said Jim -brutally. “What did you have in the ducal castle, -Wal? ortolans and plovers’ eggs, and things?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Chops,” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shades of Australia!” ejaculated Mr. Linton. -“Is that what one eats in company with dukes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” Wally answered, patiently. “He -isn’t a duke, anyhow. Where did you people get -your soaring ideas?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From a lame chauffeur who seemed to think you -were getting a great deal more than you deserved——” -Jim began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I’m getting now!” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he said you had gone off in the mothor to -the big house. We inferred from his tone that it was -not merely big, but enormous. The master had tuk -you, he said; we further gathered that you might -come back when the master had finished with you. -It sounded rather like Jack and the Giant, and if we -had known who had kidnapped you we might have -organized a search party. As we didn’t, we caught -trout—lots of ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you, indeed?” said Wally, with open envy. -“Lucky beggars—I wish I had!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you rioting in baronial halls!” said Norah. -“Some people don’t know when they are well off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we let Wally have a word in edgeways for a -few minutes we might find out a little more about the -baronial halls,” said Mr. Linton. “Tell us what -happened to you, Wally. Was it a duke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was not—only a poor hump backed chap with -some sort of a handle to his name. He’s Sir John -O’Neill, and he has a lovely place; but you never saw -a man with less ‘frill,’ ” Wally remarked. “Simple -as anyone could be. And I don’t think I’ve ever -been so sorry for anyone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is he badly crippled?” Jim asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—only he seems awfully delicate, and subject -to beastly fits of illness. He’s got any amount of -pluck—rides and shoots and fishes, and has motored -half over the world. But of course he’s terribly handicapped; -the wonder is that he has done half as much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That must be the man Patsy was talking about—only -he called him the young masther,” Norah said. -“Is he quite young?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’d put him down at about forty,” said Wally, -to whom that age was close on senile decay: “I -think the old hands here would call a man the young -master until he died of old age. He’s queer: at times -he’s like a kid; and then I suppose the pain gets hold -of him, because, in a minute he seems to grow quite -old, and he drops laughing and gets bitter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor fellow!” said Mr. Linton. “How did you -find him, Wally?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I nearly fell on top of him getting down a -bank into a lane,” Wally answered. “He was sitting -on a stone, hating himself, but he didn’t seem to mind -my sudden appearance at all, though I’m sure -clods hit him. Then we yarned, and I helped him -back to his car, and he got me to go back to lunch -with him—I didn’t want to, but——” He was silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I expect he was glad of someone to talk to,” Mr. -Linton said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it—he’s just as lonely as he can be. All -his people are fighting, and he’s knocked himself out -over Red Cross work, and has had to come back to -Ireland and get fit. He’s coming to call on you, sir—and -he wants us all to go over to Rathcullen—his -place—as much as we can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” said Jim and Norah, together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish baronial halls appealed more to my family,” -said Mr. Linton, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t mean to be horrid; but trout and loughs -and bogs appeal so much more,” said Norah. “Of -course we’ll go, if he wants us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s a jolly place, and he’s horribly lonely,” -Wally answered. “And I don’t know about his halls -being baronial, but certainly his stables are: they’re -simply topping. He hasn’t many horses left—the -Government took most of them for the war; but there -are two ripping hunters, and some extra good ponies. -And he wants to lend ’em to us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eh!” said Jim, sitting up. “Wally, my child, -how did you manage it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t have to,” said Wally, grinning. “He -simply threw them at me. Asked me if you could -ride, Norah, so I suggested that if he had a quiet -donkey it might do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have one that is not quiet,” said Norah, regarding -him with a fixed eye. “Tell me the truth, -Wally—is there something I can ride?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait till you see it—that’s all. And he’s going -to teach us to jump banks and ditches and things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh-h!” said Norah, blissfully, “I said this place -only wanted horses to make it perfect!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, now you’re going to have the horses, little as -you both deserve ’em,” said Wally; “and now, perhaps, -you’ll all apologize humbly for calling me unpleasant -names!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not,” Jim said, firmly. “If you didn’t -deserve them at the moment (and I’m not sure that -you didn’t), you’re sure to deserve them before long. -Never mind, look at this!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened his fishing-basket carefully and showed a -mass of damp grass, among which could be seen -glimpses of many trout. Jim dived in with his finger -and thumb, and drew out a speckled beauty, which he -dangled before Wally’s envious gaze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A pound and a half, by my patent spring-balance!” -he declared, triumphantly. “I played him for what -seemed like three hours, and I never was so scared -of anything in my life. He got tired at last, however, -and Norah officiated with the landing-net.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and missed him twice,” said Norah, shame-faced. -“It was the greatest wonder he didn’t get off. -But a big trout on the end of a little line does wobble -so much when it’s coming towards the net. It’s -much worse than a screwing ball at tennis.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know—and you feel perfectly certain the line -is going to break, if the rod doesn’t,” Wally said. “I -feel like that over a quarter-pounder: I don’t know -how you ever managed to make a collected effort for -that big fellow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wasn’t collected at all—I just swiped wildly, -and got him by the sheerest good luck,” Norah answered. -“I mean to practise with a cricket ball on a -string, hung from the big tree outside my window: it -would be awful to miss another beauty like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were drifting down the little lough very slowly. -There were purple shadows under the hills, lying across -the strip of bog that stretched westward, where the -curlew and golden plover were calling. A little breeze -sprang up, just rippling the surface of the water. -Wally got out his rod hastily; but though the conditions -seemed ideal, the trout had apparently gone to -sleep, and when an hour’s casting had not yielded so -much as a rise, it was decided that there might be -better things than fishing, and the party returned to -the shore. A small boy, lurking about the landing -stage, was entrusted with the rods and baskets, and -disappeared slowly among the trees fringing the path -that led to the hotel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are we going to do?” Jim asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to Gortbeg,” Norah said. “I want -some pins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pins?” Jim echoed. “Why ever must you -walk two miles for pins? I’m sure you don’t use -one in a year.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, and so I haven’t got any,” Norah said. “And -I must have some, because I want to shorten my -bog-lepping skirt, and I can’t turn up the edge without -pins to keep it in place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you sew that sort of thing, don’t you?” Jim -asked, wrestling with masculine obtuseness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course—after you’ve pinned it in place. -Jimmy, you had better let me attack that skirt in my -own way!” said Norah, justly incensed. “If you’d -tried climbing a mountain in a too-long skirt you -wouldn’t argue about making it shorter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess I would cut a foot off it without arguing -at all,” said Jim, laughing. “Skirts are fool-things -out of a house. Well, lead on, my child: I suppose -we’re all going pin-hunting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The road to Gortbeg lay between high banks, with -occasional gaps through which could be seen pleasant -moors and fields, and sometimes an old mansion, -almost hidden by enormous beech-trees. Most of the -great houses of the country were silent and closely-shuttered; -the men of the family away fighting, the -women doing Red Cross work in London, or nursing -as near the firing-line as they could manage to establish -themselves. In a few were faint signs of occupation: -a white-haired old lady on a lawn, an old man, surrounded -by a number of dogs, of many breeds, wandering -through the woods; but even in these houses -there was an air of brooding quiet and expectancy, -of silent daily watching for news. The gardens were -gay with summer flowers, and nothing could spoil the -beauty of the trees; but there were weeds in the mould, -and the paths were unkempt and moss-grown. The -district was never a rich one, and now the war had -taken all its men and money.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Down the road, to meet them, came a boy on a -donkey: a cheery small boy, sitting very far back with -his knees well in. The donkey was guiltless of bridle -or saddle, obeying, with meekness, if not with alacrity, -suggestions conveyed to it by the pressure of the bare -knees and occasional blows with an ash cudgel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The asses of Ireland are a patient race,” remarked -Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They had need to be,” Jim answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s up to the ass to be patient in most places,” -remarked Mr. Linton. “Life isn’t exactly a picnic -to him anywhere. On the whole, the Irish donkeys -seem well enough cared for; I have seen their brothers -in other countries far worse treated. That’s a nice -donkey you have, sonny”—to the small rider, who -passed them, grinning cheerfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is, sorr”; and the grin widened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re such jolly kids in these parts,” Wally -said. “They always greet you as if you were the one -person they had wanted to see for years; and they’re -so interested in you. It doesn’t seem like curiosity, -either, but real, genuine interest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it is, as far as it goes,” Jim said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well it may not go far, but it’s comforting while -it lasts—and it generally lasts as long as one is there -oneself. It’s just as well it doesn’t go deeper, or -visitors would leave an awful trail of unrequited affection -behind them. As it is, one feels they recover -after one has gone, after doing all they can to make -one’s stay pleasant. Yes, I think Ireland’s a nice, -friendly country,” Wally finished. “And there’s -Gortbeg, looking as if it had forgotten to wake up for -about five hundred years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was not much of Gortbeg. A busy little -river flowed past it hurriedly, and the village had -sprung up along one bank: one winding street, with a -few cottages and a whitewashed inn which called -itself the Fisherman’s Arms. Some boats were moored -in the stream near the inn, where a crazy landing-stage -jutted out. Scarcely anyone was to be seen -except a few children, playing on the green, which -they shared with numerous geese, a few donkeys, and -some long-haired goats; while over the half-door of -one of the cabins a knot of shawled women gossiped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s your shop, Norah,” Mr. Linton said, -indicating a dingy building which bore in its window a -curious assortment of cheap sweets, slates, apples, red -flannel, and bacon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks a bit queer,” Norah commented, regarding -the emporium rather doubtfully. “However, it’s sure -to have pins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shop was prudently secured, by a bolted half-door, -against the ravages of predatory geese or goats. -Within, it was very dark, and prolonged hammering -on the counter failed to bring any response. Finally -Jim found his way into a back room and cooee’d lustily, -returning in some haste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Phew-w! There’s a gentleman in corduroys, asleep -on a bed, and two dead pigs hanging by their heels,” -he said. “None of them took any notice of me; but -some one out at the back answered. Here he comes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The proprietor of the shop entered hurriedly: a -plump little man, very breathless and apologetic, and -more than a little damp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I left a bit of a young gossoon to mind the shop,” -he said—“and I washin’ meself. It’s gone he is, -playin’ with the other boys—sure I’ll teach him to -play when I get a holt of him. Pins, miss? Is it -hairpins, now, you’d be wanting?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, just ordinary pins,” Norah told him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” said the shopman, doubtfully. “I dunno -would I have them, at all. If it was hairpins, now, -there’s not a place in Donegal where you’d get a finer -selection. Pins . . .” He pondered deeply, and rummaged -in a box that seemed sacred to extremely -sticky bull’s eyes. “Well, well, we’d better look for -them. It might be they’d be in some odd corner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wall behind him was divided into innumerable -little compartments, and he looked faithfully through -them all, striking match after match to illumine his -progress. There were assorted goods in the compartments: -nails and screws, tin saucepan-lids, marbles, -boots, soap, oranges, reels of cotton, biscuits, socks, -and ass’s shoes; he searched them all, turning over -the contents of each until the match burned down to -his fingers, when he would throw it hastily on the -floor, strike another, and move on to the next collection. -The box of matches was nearly exhausted when -at length he gave up his quest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re not in it at all,” he said, despondently. -“I did have some, one time, but I expect they’re sold -on me. When the traveller comes I could be getting -some in from Belfast, if there was no hurry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah indicated that there was hurry, and asked -if there were another shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Mary Doody’s,” said the man of business, -sadly; “at the least, you might call it a shop, though -it’s only herself knows what she sells. That’s the -only one.” He came to the doorway, and pointed -down the street. “The last house, it is. If ’twas -anything in the wurruld now, except pins, I’d have -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little way from the shop, he caught them up, -breathless, but aflame with business enterprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it from Moroney’s ye are? Would ye tell -Mrs. Moroney that I’ve the grandest bit of pork ever -she seen—killed yesterday, an’ they me own pigs that -I rared on the place. Peter Grogan—sure, she’ll -know me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you,” Jim said, hurriedly. “Good night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good night,” responded Mr. Grogan. “Tell her -to-morrow’s early closing day, an’ I could bring one -over in the little ass-cart as aisy as not.” The last -words were uttered in a high shriek as the distance -widened between himself and the Linton party.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pork is a good thing,” said Mr. Linton, sententiously. -“Isn’t it, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’d seen the room I saw!” said his son, with -feeling. “Such a bedroom: and the gentleman in -bed, and I should say very drunk. No, I don’t think -I’ll deliver that message.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mary Doody’s place of business stood back a little -from the road. There was no window for the display -of goods, and the door was shut. The uninitiated -might, indeed, have been pardoned for failing to regard -it as a shop, or for passing by, unnoticed, the brief -legend over the door which stated that Mrs. Doody’s -residence was a Generil Store, and added that she -was further empowered to sell stout and porter. The -inhabitants of Gortbeg, however, were clearly to be -numbered among the initiated, for sounds of conviviality -came, muffled, from within, and once a voice -broke into a snatch of a song. Norah hesitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I needn’t knock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They might not hear you, if you did,” Jim said. -He opened the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Within, a long, low room was dim with a mixture of -turf and tobacco smoke, and heavy with the fumes of -porter. A swinging lamp shed a depressed ray over -the scene. As her eyes grew accustomed to the smoky -twilight, Norah made out a number of men and a few -women sitting on benches near the fire, each with a -mug that evidently held comforting liquor. Every -one seemed to be talking at once; but a dead silence -fell as the door opened on the unfamiliar figures. -Norah resisted an inclination to turn and seek fresh -air. An immensely fat woman, with a grimy shawl -pinned across her bosom, waddled forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening, dear,” she said, dividing the greeting -impartially between Jim and Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening,” Norah responded. “This is a -shop, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, dear,” Mrs. Doody said, bridling a little at -any doubt being cast on her emporium. “Were you -wantin’——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pins,” Norah said hastily. “Do you keep -them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dunno would I,” said Mary Doody, unconsciously -echoing Mr. Grogan. “Pins. Would they -be small pins, now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—just common pins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pins,” said Mary Doody, reflecting deeply. She -turned and sought in unsavoury boxes which held a -stock as varied, if not so numerous, as that of Mr. -Grogan. The porter-drinkers became immensely interested. -Some of the women came nearer and stared -at the strangers, and one or two, catching Norah’s eye, -smiled a greeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mary Doody heaved her mighty form up from the -box over which she had been crouching.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had some, wanst,” she said. “But ’tis gone -they are, or may be them gerrls has them taken. -Wouldn’t anything else do for you, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, thank you,” Norah said, hastily. She turned -to go, pursued by Mrs. Doody, who suddenly became -interested in the case.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you try Peter Grogan?” she asked. “He -have a little shop up yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah admitted having tried and failed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My, my!” said Mary Doody. “ ’Tis puttin’ a -bad direction on a counthry when you can’t buy a -paper of pins in it, isn’t it, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah laughed. “I’m sorry you haven’t got them,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. There’s no call for them here, dear. We -do be using buttons,” said Mary Doody, blandly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under cover of this broadside Norah made a confused -exit, to find Jim and Wally helpless with laughter -without.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never did I see anyone taught her place so beautifully!” -said Jim, ecstatically. “That will teach you -to be tidy, young Norah!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Buttons!” said Norah, laughing. “I’d like to see -Mary Doody shorten a skirt with the aid of buttons. -Anyhow, I’ve got to do it without the aid of pins, -that’s evident. Come home, you unsympathetic -frivollers!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was two days later, that, coming in late and -ravenously hungry after a long tramp across the bog, -the Lintons made a hurried toilet and a still more -hurried descent to the dining-room. Dinner had been -kept waiting for them, and they applied themselves -to it with an energy born of a long day in the open air -and a sandwich lunch. It was when the first edge -of appetite had been taken off, and they were toying -with a mammoth apple-pie, that Mrs. Moroney bore -down upon them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid we were very late, Mrs. Moroney,” said -Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, ’tis no matter,” said the lady of the house, -waving away the suggestion. “In the heighth of the -season there’s many a one roaring for dinner, and it -ten o’clock at night. Did you enjoy your dinner, -now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We did, indeed,” said Mr. Linton; “it was most -excellent pork——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stopped, catching Jim’s eye, into which had -come a sudden light of comprehension.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pork!” said Jim faintly. “Yes, it <span class='it'>was</span> pork. -Mrs. Moroney, . . . I wonder . . . did you . . . ?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t tell me there was anything wrong with it,” -said Mrs. Moroney, aflame in the defence of the pork. -“I never see better pigs than them ones of Peter -Grogan’s; and he after killing them only last Tuesday!”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch10'>CHAPTER X<br/> <span class='sub-head'>THE ROCK OF DOON</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>                  “Hills o’ my heart!</p> -<p class='line0'>Let the herdsman who walks in your high haunted places</p> -<p class='line0'>  Give him strength and courage, and weave his dreams alway:</p> -<p class='line0'>Let your cairn-heaped hero-dead reveal their grand exultant faces.</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the Gentle Folk be good to him betwixt the dark and day.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Ethna Carbery.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>S</span>IR John O’Neill paid his formal call on the -Australians, tactfully choosing a day so hopelessly -wet as to forbid any thought of fishing or “bog-lepping.” -Bog excursions had a peculiar fascination -for Norah and the boys, who loved rambling among -the deep brown pools, leaping from tuft to tuft of -sound grass, and making experiments—frequently -disastrous—in mossy surfaces that looked sound, -but were very likely to prove quagmires which effectually -removed any lurking doubt in Norah’s mind -that an Irish bog could be boggy. They sought the -bogs in almost all weathers. But the day that brought -Sir John to the old house on Lough Aniller was one of -such pitiless rain that prudence, in the shape of Mr. -Linton, forbade any excursion to patients so newly -recovered as Jim and Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even in the most homelike of boarding-houses a -wet day is apt to be depressing to open-air people. -It was with relief, mingled with amazement, that -they saw the motor coming up the dripping avenue -in the afternoon; and a moment later Bridget, obviously -impressed, ushered Sir John into the drawing-room. -The Lintons were established as favourites -in the household on their own merits; but it was -placing them on quite a different standard of respect -to find that they were visited by the “ould -stock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every one enjoyed the visit. Sir John was better, -the lines of pain that Wally had seen nearly gone from -his face. There was an almost boyish eagerness -about him; he was keen to know them all, to hear -their frank talk, to make friends with them. David -Linton and his son liked him from the moment they -met his eyes; brown eyes, with something of the -mute appeal that lies in the eyes of a dog. As for -Norah, in all her life she had not known what it meant -to be so sorry for anyone as she felt for this brave, -crippled man, with his high-bred face and gallant bearing. -Afterwards, when John O’Neill looked back at -heir meeting, one of his memories of Norah was that -she had never seemed to see his misshapen shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That first visit had stretched over the whole afternoon, -no one quite knew how. Outside, the rain -streamed down the window-panes and lashed the -lough into waves; but within the old house a fire of -turf and bog-wood blazed, casting ruddy lights on the -furniture, and sending its pleasant, acrid smell into the -room. They gathered round it in a half-circle and -“yarned”—exchanging stories of Ireland, and Australia, -and London and war. There could be no talk -in those grim days without war-stories and war-rumours; -but after a time they drifted away to far-off -times, and Sir John, beginning half-timidly with an -old Irish legend, found that he had a suddenly enthralled -circle of listeners, who demanded more, and -yet more—tales of high and far-off times and of the -mighty heroes of Ireland: Finn MacCool and the -Fianna, Cuchulain, Angus Og, and the half-real, half-legendary -past that holds Ireland in a mist of romance. -He knew it all, and loved it, telling the stories with -the quiet pride of a descendant of a race whose roots -were deep in the soil of the land that had borne them: -and the children of the country that had no history -hung upon his words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What must you think of me?” he said at last, -when, in a pause, the clock in the hall boomed out six -strokes. “I come to call, and I remain to an unseemly -hour spinning yarns. The fact is, you—well, -you just aren’t strangers at all, and I certainly knew -you before. Were you in Ireland in a previous incarnation, -Miss Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would love to think so,” she said. “One would -like to have had some part in the Ireland you can talk -about. Will you come again and tell us more, Sir -John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes were grateful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I don’t bore you. I fastened upon this poor -boy”—indicating Wally with a friendly nod—“the -other day when I was desperately sick of my own -company, and now I seem to have done the same to -you all; and you’re very good to a lonely man. But -I want all of you at Rathcullen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re coming,” said Wally, solemnly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you? I timed my call to-day, because I -didn’t think even half-amphibious Australians would -be out in such weather—and see what luck I’ve had!” -He looked no older than the boys, his eager face glowing -in the firelight. “But please don’t come to Rathcullen -formally, Mr. Linton; if I bring the car over can I -carry you all off to-morrow for lunch? There are -horses simply spoiling to be ridden, Miss Norah.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh-h!” said Norah. “But I’ve no riding-things -with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That doesn’t matter: I have two young cousins -who occasionally pay me a visit, and their riding-kit -is at Rathcullen, since they can’t use it in London. -I’m sure you can manage with it; details of fit don’t -signify much in Donegal.” He rose, and stood on the -hearthrug looking eagerly at them. When he was -sitting, his finely-modelled head and clever face made -it easy to forget his dwarfed body: standing, among -the lithe, tall Australians, it was suddenly pitifully -evident. He felt it, for he flushed, and for a moment -his eyes dropped; then he faced them again, bravely. -Mr. Linton spoke, hurriedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We would be delighted to go to you. But are -we not rather a numerous party? I think we ought -to send a detachment!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, indeed—I wouldn’t know which to choose!” -returned the Irishman, whimsically. “You see, you -are just a godsend to me, if you will spare me a little -of your time; I have been so long shut up alone. -And it’s not good to be alone when one is spoiling to -be in the thick of things; I grow horribly bad-tempered. -When I know that these young giants are out -of the hunt, too, I become more reconciled to circumstances. -You see my complete selfishness!” He -smiled at them delightfully. “So, may I come for -you all to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks—but there is really no reason why we -should trouble you to bring the motor. We can easily -walk over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s every reason; I’ll get you earlier!” said -O’Neill, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The motor slid down the avenue in the driving rain, -and the Australians looked at each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever make friends so quickly with anyone, -dad?” Jim asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think I did,” David Linton answered. -“There’s something about him one can’t quite express: -so much of the child left in the man. Poor -fellow—poor fellow!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think he’s the bravest man I ever saw,” said -Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day at Rathcullen House was the first of many. -Sir John was so frankly eager to have them there, and -his welcome was so spontaneous and heart-felt, that -the Australians suddenly felt themselves “belong,” -and the beautiful old house became to them an Irish -version of their own Billabong. Ireland, always -many-sided, showed them a new and fascinating face. -They had loved the lanes and bogs and moors where -they had been free to wander. But now they found -themselves free of a wide demesne where wealth and -art had done all that was possible to aid Nature, with -a perfect understanding of where it was best to leave -Nature alone. The park, with its splendid old trees, -and the well-kept fields around it, gave opportunities -for trying Sir John’s horses; and Norah and the boys -were soon under the spell of jumping the big banks -that the hunters took so cleverly,—although, at first, -to see them jump on to a bank, change feet with lightning -rapidity, and leap down the far side, seemed to -Antipodean eyes more like a circus performance than -ordinary riding! Beyond the park stretched miles -of deer-forest, unlike an ordinary forest in that it had -no trees,—being a great expanse of heathery hills and -moor, seamed and studded with rocks, streams babbling -here and there, half-hidden in deep channels fringed -with long grass and heather and ling. As land, it -Was worthless; nothing would grow in the stony -barren soil save the moorland plants; but it formed -a glorious ground for long rambles. O’Neill was -fast recovering his normal strength, and his energy -was always like a devouring fire; he could not, however, -walk far, and he and David Linton would find rocky -seats on the moor while Norah and the boys rambled -far over the deer-forest, often stalking patiently for -an hour, armed with field-glasses, to catch a glimpse -of the shy red-deer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A don’t know why people want to shoot them,” -Norah said, after a long crawl through the rough -heather, which had resulted in a splendid view of a -magnificent stag. “They’re so beautiful; and it’s -just as much fun to stalk them like this!” To which -Jim and Wally returned non-committal grunts, and -exchanged, privately, glances of amazement at the -strangeness of the feminine outlook.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes there were days on the lough at the -far end of the Rathcullen bog: a well-stocked lough -where no outside fishing was permitted, and which -yielded them trout of a weight far beyond their dreams; -and there were motor-drives far afield, exploring the -country-side, with Sir John always ready with legends -and stories of the “ould ancient” times. Even on -wet days the big Rolls-Royce would appear early in the -morning, bearing an urgent invitation; and wet days -were easy to spend in Rathcullen—in the great hall, -the well-stocked library, the conservatories, or the -picture-gallery, where faces of long-dead O’Neills, -some of them startlingly like their host, stared down -at them from the panelled walls. In the billiard-room -Wally and Jim fought cheerful battles, while Mr. -Linton would write Australian letters in the library, -and Norah and Sir John explore other nooks and -corners of the great house, or discourse music after -their own fashion. His friendship seemed fitted to -each: with Mr. Linton he could be the man of affairs, -deeply-read and thoughtful; while to the boys and -Norah he was the most delightful of chums, as full of -fun even as Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He fits in so,” said Jim. “He’s never in our -way, and—what is a good deal more wonderful—I -don’t believe we’re ever in his!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many times Sir John begged them to transfer themselves -altogether to Rathcullen. But something of -Australian independence held them back; they preferred -to retain their rooms at the Lough Aniller house, -though it saw less and less of them in the daytime, and -Timsy openly bewailed their constant absence—until -the sergeant came home on furlough, when Timsy -promptly forgot every one else in the world, and -walked with his head in clouds of glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed,” Mr. Linton said, one day, in answer to a -renewed invitation—“I am frequently ashamed to -think how completely we seem to have quartered ourselves -on you, O’Neill. It’s hardly fair to inflict you -still further.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you could but guess what you have done for me, -you might be surprised,” Sir John answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were in the motor, running along a smooth -high road near the little narrow-gauge railway line. -Ahead, Norah and the boys could be seen across a field, -riding; they had come across country, taking banks -and ditches as they came, and were making towards -a point where they were all to meet. John O’Neill -looked at the racing trio with a smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was in a pretty bad way when Wally dropped -on me in the boreen that morning,” he said, presently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He said you were suffering terribly,” David Linton -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—that was nothing. I’m fairly well used to -pain when my stupid attacks come on, though that -had certainly been a stiff one. But—well, I think I -was beginning to lose heart. My physical disadvantages -have always been in my way, naturally; but I -have managed to keep them in the background to a -certain extent and live a man’s life, even in a second-rate -fashion. But since the war began I couldn’t do -it. I was so useless—a cumberer of the ground, when -every man was needed. My people have always -been fighters, until——until I came, to blot the record.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have no right to say that,” said David Linton, -sharply. “You did more than thousands of men are -doing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did what I could. But I wanted to fight, man—to -fight! If you knew how I envied every private I -saw marching through London! every lucky youngster -with a sound heart and a pair of straight shoulders. I -had always set my teeth, before, and got through a -man’s work, somehow or other. But here was something -I couldn’t do—they wouldn’t have me. And even -over what work I was able to tackle, I went to pieces. -When I came back to Ireland I felt like rubbish, flung -out of the way—out of the way of men who were men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not fair to feel like that,” David Linton said. -“And it is not true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—you have all helped me to believe that perhaps -I am not altogether on the dust-heap. You came -when I was desperate; every day in Rathcullen was -making me worse. I couldn’t go into the picture-gallery; -the fighting-men on the walls seemed to look -at me in scorn to see to what a poor thing the old -house had come down. And then you all came, and -you didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong -with me. You made me one of you—even those youngsters, -full of all the energy and laughter and youth of -that big young country of yours. They have made a -chum of me: I haven’t laughed for years as I’ve -laughed in the last fortnight. And I’m fitter than -I’ve been for years—I’ve forgotten to think of myself, -and when you all go I also am going back, to work. -There must be work, even for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For you! Why, you’re a young man, full of -energy, even if you can’t have active service,” said -David Linton. “And I am a grey old man, but -there’s work for me. Don’t think that you have no -job, because you can’t get the job you like; that’s an -easy attitude to adopt. Every man can find his job -if he looks for it with his eyes open.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you have helped mine to open,” O’Neill said. -“I was miserable because I had hitched my wagon -to a star and had found I couldn’t drive it. The old -servants—bless their kind hearts!—were purring over -me and pitying me, and I was feeling raw; and then -you all walked into my life and declined to notice that -I was a useless dwarf——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because you aren’t,” said the other man, sharply. -“Don’t talk utter nonsense!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—I won’t forget,” he said. “But I am -grateful; only I sometimes wonder if I ask for too -much of your time. Do you think the youngsters are -bored?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bored!” Mr. Linton said in amazement. “Why, -they are having the time of their lives! I could not -possibly have given them half the pleasure you have -Put in their way. You talk of gratitude, but to my -mind it should be entirely on our side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said O’Neill firmly. “Still, I’m glad to -think they are enjoying themselves,—not merely being -polite and benevolent!” Whereat David Linton -broke into laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I trust they’d be polite in any circumstances,” -he said. “But even politeness has its limits. You -wouldn’t call that sort of thing forced, would you? -Look.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pointed across a field. Norah and the boys -were galloping to meet them. They flashed up a little -hill, dipped down into a hollow, and scurried up another -rise, where a stiff bank met them, with a deep -drop into the next field. Norah’s brown pony got -over it with the cleverness of a cat, and she raced -ahead of the boys, who set sail after her, vociferating -quite unintelligible remarks about people who took -unfair short cuts. Their merry voices brought echoes -from the hills. Norah maintained her advantage until -a low bank brought them out into the road, and all -together they trotted towards the waiting motor. -Their glowing faces sufficiently answered Sir John’s -doubts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, of course you beat them, Norah—easily!” -he said, shamelessly ignoring the boys’ side of the race. -“Didn’t I tell you that pony could beat most things -in Donegal, if she got the chance?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did cut a corner,” Norah admitted, laughing. -“But ’tis themselves has the animals of great size—and -they flippant leppers!” She dropped into brogue -with an ease born of close association with Timsy and -his parents. “Sir John, is that the Doon Rock?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pointed with her whip to a great rocky eminence -half a mile away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that’s the Rock,” O’Neill answered. “It’s -rather a landmark, isn’t it? We’ll wait for you at -the foot, if you’ll jog on after us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The riders followed the motor slowly. The road led -past the great mass, half hill, half rock, that towered -over the little fields. It was about three hundred -feet high, with sparse vegetation endeavouring to find -a footing on its rugged sides, and grey boulders, -weather-worn and clothed with lichen, jutting out, grim -and bleak. The motor halted under its shadow, and -the groom who occupied the front seat with Con, the -lame chauffeur, led the horses away to a cottage close -by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few hundred yards away a curious sight puzzled -the Australians. On a little green, where some grey -stones marked a well, was a little plantation of sticks -stuck in the ground. Fluttering rags waved from -many of them, and ornamented the ragged brambles -near the well.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t seen a holy well, have you?” O’Neill -asked. “That is one of the most famous—the Well -of Doon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But what are the sticks?” Wally asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come and see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked over to the well. A deeply marked -path led to it, and all about it the ground was beaten -hard by the feet of many people, save in the patch of -ground where the sticks stood upright. There were -all kinds of sticks; rough stakes, cut from a hedge, -ash-plants, blackthorns—some of no value, others -well-finished and costly. Rags, white and coloured, -fluttered from them. And there was more than one -crutch, standing straight and stiff among the lesser -sticks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But what is it?” breathed Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a holy well. Hundreds of years ago there -was a great sickness in the country, and the people -sent to a saint who had originally come from these -parts, begging him to come and help them. The saint -was in Rome, and he could not come. But he was -sorry for the people; and the legend goes that he -threw his staff into a well in Rome, and it sank, and -emerged from the water of the Well of Doon here: -and ever since then the people believe that the water -has healing power, and that it will heal anyone who -pilgrimages to it barefoot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But does it?” asked Wally, incredulously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—they say the age of miracles is past. But -the age of faith-healing is not; and you won’t find -an Irishman, whatever his religion, sneering at the -old holy places of Ireland. I don’t pretend to understand -these things, but I respect them. And then—there -is no doubt whatever as to the genuineness, and -the permanence, of many of the cures.” He pointed -to the little forest of sticks. “Look at those sticks: each -one left here by a grateful man or woman who came -leaning on the stick, and went away not needing it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great Scott!” said Wally. “And the rags?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are votive offerings. If you look on that -flat stone near the well you’ll find hundreds of others—tokens, -medals, little ornaments, even hairpins: all -valueless, but left by people too poor to give even a -penny. They believe the saint understands: and I -think he would be a hard saint if he did not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stone was almost covered with tiny offerings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does no one touch them?” Jim asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re sacred. If you left money there it would -not be touched.” He pointed to a handful of wilting -daisies. “I expect those were left by children on their -way to school. All the poor know that it is the spirit, -not the letter, of an offering that counts: and even -those daisies are left in perfect faith that the saint -will see to the matter if trouble should come to them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never thought such beliefs still existed,” said -Mr. Linton, greatly interested. “Look at this crutch—it’s -quite good, and looks newly-planted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A woman, barefooted and with a shawl over her -head, had come across the grass from the cottage. She -curtseyed to O’Neill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was left this morning, sir,” she said, indicating -the crutch. “Sure, the man that owned it was in a -bad way: he come from Dublin, an’ he crippled in -his hip. On a side-car they brought him, and there -was two men to lift him on and off it, and he yellow -with the dint of the pain he had. I seen him limping -on his crutch across to the well. And when he went -away he walked over to the car as aisy as you or me, -and not a limp on him at all, and him throwing a leg -on to the car like a boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean to say he went away cured?” exclaimed -Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure, there’s his crutch,” said the woman, simply. -“He’d no more use at all for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well-l!” The Australians looked blankly at each -other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis fourteen years I’ve been living over beyant,” -said the woman. “I’ve seen them come on sticks -and on crutches; some of them carried, and some of -them put on cars: but they all walked away—all that -had faith in the saint. Why wouldn’t they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a brief question that somehow left them without -any answer, since simple faith is too big a thing -to meddle with. They said good-bye to the woman -and went back to the Rock, where the groom was -waiting to help his master in the climb—an old groom -with a face like a withered rosy apple. The ascent was -not difficult: a winding path led to the summit of -the Rock, and they were soon at the top.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Between them, Elizabeth and Cromwell didn’t -leave us many of our old monuments,” said O’Neill, -looking away across the country. “But thank goodness -they couldn’t touch the Doon Rock!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The summit was almost flat; a long narrow plateau -with soft grass growing in its hollows. One end was -wider than the other, with a kind of saddle connecting -the two: and in the middle of the smaller end was a -great flat stone that looked almost like an altar. All -about the high, precipitous eminence the country lay -like an unrolled map far beneath them: a wide expanse -of flat moor and field and fallow, in the midst -of which the great Rock showed, almost startling in -its rugged steepness. Little villages were dotted here -and there, and sometimes could be seen the blue gleam -of water. The white smoke of a train made a creeping -line against the dark bog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Con and the groom had placed the luncheon-basket -in a grassy hollow where there was shelter from the -breeze that swept keenly across the high Rock; and -had retreated with the instinctive delicacy of the Irish -peasant, who never intrudes upon “the genthry” -when eating, and himself prefers to eat alone. After -lunch, Norah and Wally collected the débris of the -feast and burned it under the lee side of a boulder, -in the belief that no decent person leaves such things -as picnic-papers for the next comer to see: and then -they strolled across the narrow saddle to the stone -on the farther side, where the others had already -wandered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell us about it, Sir John, please,” Norah begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was here that the old O’Donnell chiefs were -inaugurated,” O’Neill said. “They were the rulers -of Tyrconnell, which is now north-west Ulster: the -old name is still used in a good deal of Irish poetry. -All the clan used to gather when a new leader was to -be installed, the people clustering down in the plain -below, and the chieftain and his principal men up here -on the Rock. It must have been worth seeing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim drew a long breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should just think so,” he said, “Tell us more, -O’Neill: I want to reconstruct it. This old Rock must -have looked just the same as it does to-day. It’s -something to have seen even that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just the same,” said Sir John, his eyes kindling -at the boy’s enthusiasm. “The Inauguration Stone -may have been in better preservation, but a few dozen -centuries can’t do much to the Rock. Well—you can -picture the people down below, thousands of them. -All the country would be a great unfenced plain—no -banks and hedges such as you see to-day, and very -likely no roads worth calling roads. There would be -forests, most probably, and, in them, animals that -became extinct long ago, like the wild boar and wolf. -The ground below would be a great camp—every one -making merry and dressed in their best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should think that even in those days it wouldn’t -take much to make an Irish crowd merry,” Wally said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They would have plenty of entertainment: jugglers, -fortune-tellers, buffoons in painted masks, and -champions, showing feats with weapons and strength—probably -‘spoiling for a fight.’ Music there would -be in abundance: pipes, tube-players, harps, and -bands of chorus-singers. There would be any amount -of fun in the crowd. But, of course, the Rock would -be the centre of everyone’s thoughts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s all coming quite distinctly,” said Norah, who -was sitting on the grass, gazing out over the plain. -“If you look hard you can see them all, in saffron -kilts and flowing cloaks like you told us, Sir John. -Now tell us who is up here on the Rock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The new chief is where Wally is, sitting on the -great stone,” said O’Neill, smiling at her. “Do you -want to know what he’s wearing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you can picture him a goodly man, to begin -with, for no chief could reign unless he were a champion, -free from the slightest physical defect. ‘He was -graceful and beautiful of form, without blemish or -reproach,’ one old chronicle says. ‘Fair yellow hair -he had, and it bound with a golden band to keep it -from loosening. A red buckler upon him, with stars -and animals of gold thereon, and fastenings of silver. -A crimson cloak in wide descending folds around him, -fastened at his neck with precious stones. A torque -of gold round his neck’—that’s a broad twisted band: -you can see them to-day in the Museum in Dublin. -‘A white shirt with a full collar upon him, intertwined -with red gold thread. A girdle of gold, inlaid with -precious stones, around him. Two wonderful shoes -of gold, with golden loops, about the feet. Two -spears with golden sockets in his hands, with rivets -of red bronze.’ There—can you see him, Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m trying, but he dazzles me!” Norah said. -“Go on, please. Who else is there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All his nobles and councillors, dressed almost as -splendidly as the chief himself. The old books are -full of details of the richness of their apparel: gold -and silver and fine clothing must have been an ordinary -thing with them—and not only was it so, but the -workmanship was exquisite. They had ‘shirts ribbed -with gold thread, crimson fringed cloaks, embroidered -coats of rejoicing, clothing of red silk, and shirts of the -dearest silk.’ They wore helmets, and carried spears, -’sharp, thin, hard-pointed, with rivets of gold and -silk thongs for throwing’; ‘long swords, with hilts -and guards of gold; and shields of silver, with rim -and boss of gold.’ One man is described as ‘having -in his hand a small-headed, white-breasted hound, -with a collar of rubbed gold and a chain of old silver’: -and a horse had a bridle of silver rings and a gold bit. -They had shoes of white bronze, and great golden -brooches, with ‘gold chains about their necks and -bands of gold above them again.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill stopped and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could go on for a long time,” he said. “But -I’m afraid it begins to sound like the description of -Solomon’s Temple!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And to think,” said Jim, unheeding him, “that we -had a vague idea that Ireland had been inhabited only -by savages!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Schools don’t teach you anything about Ireland,” -said O’Neill, contemptuously. “A few hours among -the exquisite old things in the Dublin Museum would -open your eyes: the finest goldsmiths and silversmiths -of the present world cannot touch the beauty of the -workmanship of the treasures there;—and some of -them were dug up out of bogs, after lying there no -one knows how many hundred or thousand years. -They were craftsmen in those days, and they loved -the work. You don’t get that spirit in Trades Union -times!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t talk about Trades Unions!” Norah cried. -“We’re on the Doon Rock, and I can see all those -people round the chief, and the crowd on the plain -below, looking up. What else, Sir John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There would be white-robed Druids,” O’Neill -said; “and the King’s bards or poets would be about -him. The bard was a very important person and a -high functionary, with wide powers. In a sense he -was the war-correspondent of his day: he never -fought, but he was always present at a battle, and very -much in it, noting the heroic deeds of the warriors, -and afterwards recording them in his songs. Poetry -in those days was a most business-like and practical -thing, for everything of any importance was written -in verse, such as the laws, the genealogies of the clans, -and their history. The poet held an exalted position, -and was educated for it from his boyhood by a course -of careful study: and the chief poet ranked next to -the king, and went about with almost as fine a retinue. -They were the professors of their day, and kept schools -for training lads for their order. A man had to be -very careful not to offend one, or he would write a -satire against the culprit; and these satires were -dreaded extremely, since they were believed to cause -disaster and desolation to fall not only on a man but -on his whole family. Nowadays, editors are said -to keep special wastepaper baskets for dealing with -poets, but it wouldn’t have done in the ould ancient -times—the post of an editor would have been too -unhealthy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it is through them that the old stories -have come down,” Jim said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. They had to write the verse-tales, and -they had to tell them, too; they were obliged to learn -and teach three hundred and fifty kinds of versification, -and an Ollave, or chief poet, could recite at any moment -any of three hundred and fifty stories. They did a lot -of harm, because they abused their power; and at -last, in the sixth century, were nearly banished from -Ireland altogether. Columcille saved them from that -fate, but they were made much less important. However, -the poets that you are looking at with your -mind’s eye, Norah, were ages before that, and you can -imagine them as gorgeous and as haughty as possible, -and every one is very polite to them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to get off this stone and make room for -the chief,” said Wally, solemnly, rising. “There’s -the ghost of a poet, glaring at me, and he’s going to -burst into a satire.” He subsided on the grass beside -Norah. “Go on, please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, that is the crowd on top of the Rock,” Sir -John said: “nobles, councillors, poets, and Druids, -all in order of rank: the Rock would hold three or -four hundred, all told. And the crowd below, gazing -up. I’m glad you got off the stone, Wally, because -the chief wants it now. He takes off his wonderful -shoes of gold, and places one foot on the stone, and -swears to preserve all ancient customs inviolable, -to deliver up the rulership peaceably, when the time -comes, to his successor, to rule the people with justice, -and to maintain the laws. Then he puts away his -weapons, and the highest of his nobles, an hereditary -official, gives him a straight white rod in token of -authority—straight, to remind him that his administration -should be just, and white, that his actions -should be pure and upright. Then he gives him new -sandals: and keeping one of the golden shoes, he -throws the other over the new chief’s head and proclaims -him O’Donnell. All the nobles repeat the -title—can’t you hear the mighty shout, and the crowd -below taking it up, so that it rings over Tyrconnell!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh-h!” breathed Norah. “And it was here, -where we are sitting!” She put her hand on the -ground that had felt the tramp of the hosts of ancient -days. “Was that all, Sir John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That ended the ceremony; except that each -subject paid a cow as rod-money, a sort of tribute to -the new chief. But of course there was high feasting -and festival, probably for days. They had splendid -feasts, too. Once, when one of the great nobles entertained -the chief and all the men of Tyrconnel, the -preparations took a whole year. A special house was -built, surpassing all other buildings in beauty of -architecture, with splendid pillars and carvings: in -the banqueting-hall the wainscotting was of bronze -thirty feet high, overlaid with gold. It took a wagon-team -to carry each beam, and the strength of seven -men to fix each pole; and the royal couch was set -with precious stones ‘radiant with every hue, making -night bright as day.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill broke off, and hesitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do I tell you too much?” he asked. “I’m afraid -my tongue runs away with me—but I did want you -to realize something of what Ireland was. There -were great men in those days, and the fighting-men -had high ideals of what great champions should be. -It is what kept us all through our lifetime,’ one said—‘truth -that was in our hearts, and strength in our -arms, and fulfilment on our tongues.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was silent, looking away. The proud soul, pent -in the misshapen body, found comfort in turning from -the present, that held so little for him, back to the -mighty past when the O’Neills, too, had been chieftains -and champions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently he stood up, with a shrug.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Time we went down, I’m afraid,” he said, cheerfully. -“Before we go, Norah, I will proceed to relate -for your benefit the six womanly gifts which were -demanded of properly-brought-up young women in -the high and far-off times in Ireland. They were, -the gift of modest behaviour, the gift of singing, the -gift of sweet speech, the gift of beauty, the gift of -wisdom, and the gift of needlework!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wow!” said poor Norah, in dismay. “Perhaps -it’s as well I got born in Australia!”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch11'>CHAPTER XI<br/> <span class='sub-head'>NORTHWARD</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“Says he to all belongin’ him, ‘Now happy may ye be!</p> -<p class='line0'>But I’m off to find me fortune,’ sure he says, says he.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Moira O’Neill.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>‟I</span>S Mr. Linton in, Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is, sir. Leastways, he’s out, down by -the lough, and all of them with him.” The small boy -looked up at Sir John O’Neill with more awe than he -was wont to regard most people. “Will I get him -for you, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—I’ll go down, myself. Is your father well, -Timsy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He does be splendid, sir,” said Timsy, his eye -brightening. “Only they’ll be takin’ him back soon, -to fight them ould Germans.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I expect Lord Kitchener can’t do without him,” -said Sir John, confidentially. “Never mind,—we’ll -have him back in Donegal altogether, before long, -please goodness. And whisper, Timsy—when he -comes back for good, he’ll have a splendid medal on -his coat!” He patted the small boy on the head and -left him speechless before a prospect so tremendous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Linton party was discovered by the well on -the lough shore, where Wally was scratching the nose -of the patient donkey and talking to him, as Norah -said, as man to man. He had his back to the path -down from the garden, and did not hear Sir John’s -approach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’d come back to Australia with us, acushla -machree,” he said, “I’d guarantee you the best of -grass and you wouldn’t have any water to draw at, -all.” The ass drooped his head lower, and appeared, -not at all impressed by this dazzling future. “And -Murty would love you, and Norah would ride you after -cattle.” (“I would <span class='it'>not</span>!” from Norah.) “And -you could tell the horses about Ireland, and we’d tie -green ribbons round your neck on St. Patrick’s Day, -and let you wave a green flag with a harp on it in your -pearl-pale hand. Oh, lovely ass——!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Were you speaking to me?” asked Sir John, -politely, near his ear; and Wally jumped, and joined -in the laugh against himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re twin-souls, this patient person and myself,” -he explained. “I’ve found it out, and I’m trying to -make the ass see it. Never mind, old chap; we’ll -continue this profitable conversation when we are -alone; unfeeling listeners only make you bashful.” -He produced a carrot from his pocket, and the ass ate -it, despondently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m awfully sorry to have interrupted your heart-to-heart -talk; but the fact is, Mr. Linton, I’m simply -bursting with an idea, and I had to hurry over and put -it before you.” Sir John spoke eagerly, turning to -Norah with a laugh. “Is it a good moment to approach -him, Norah? I want him to promise to do -something.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He ate a noble breakfast,” said Norah, gravely. -“And he’s nearly finished his pipe. I should think -the moment’s favourable. Anyway, it will have to be -now, because I simply can’t wait to hear what it is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, we know your ideas, O’Neill,” Mr. Linton -said, laughing. “They generally combine a great -deal of trouble for yourself with something quite new -in the way of entertainment for us. This must be -particularly outrageous, as you want me to promise -beforehand. I think you had better make a clean -breast of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s this,” Sir John answered. “The weather -is glorious, and the glass is high; it’s useless weather -for fishing, and I think you have explored this neighbourhood -pretty thoroughly. The motor holds six -quite easily. What do you say to a trip north—a -little tour, to last about a week?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Subdued gasps came from Norah, Jim, and Wally. -Mr. Linton laughed outright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did I tell you?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at all,” responded Sir John. “I think”—unblushingly—“that -Con needs a change; and it -would be an excellent way to give him one, if you -would only be kind enough to help me. You surely -wouldn’t refuse poor Con such a little thing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve re-cast a good many of my ideas about Ireland,” -David Linton said. “But to utilize five people -to take one chauffeur for a change is certainly what I -was brought up to call an Irish way of doing things! -Seriously, however, O’Neill, your proposal is a very -tempting one. Shall we put it to the committee?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The committee says, ‘Carried <span class='it'>nem. con.</span>’ I should -say,” said Jim. “It would be simply top-hole. But -isn’t it putting rather a strain on you and the motor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not—as far as I am concerned, a run in -sea-air is all I need to make me quite fit again,” O’Neill -answered. “What do you say about it, Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m speechless; and as for Wally, he’s leaning -up against the ass for support,” said Norah, indicating -Mr. Meadows, who grasped the hapless donkey fondly. -“It’s the most glorious plan, Sir John; and it’s just -like you, to think of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill’s delicate face flushed with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re all such satisfactory people, because you’re -never bored,” he said. “And then, you like Ireland, -which makes everything delightful. Well, I thought -we might have a look at Horn Head and Sheep Haven, -Mr. Linton, and perhaps get across to The Rosses; or -would you rather have no fixed plan, but just wander -about, seeking what we may find? There are innumerable -little bays and inlets up there, all rather -fascinating; we should be between mountain and sea -scenery, and the inns here and there are fairly good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think we will leave it entirely to you, so far as -planning the route goes,” Mr. Linton answered. “You -know the country, and we don’t; and as for us, any -part of Ireland is good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I vote for having no fixed plan at all,” Jim said. -“It’s when you have no plans that the best things -happen to you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll leave it at that, then,” said Sir John. “Can -we start to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have only two weeks more leave,” said Jim. -“So the sooner we go the better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you can be ready, Norah?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me? Oh, certainly,” said Norah, who, Wally -declared, was always ready at any time for anything.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, I’ll be off,” Sir John declared. “I left -Con hard at work on the car, giving her a thorough -overhaul—we could not believe that you would be so -hard-hearted as to refuse him the trip! But I have -a good many things to see to, and I’ll have a busy -day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could I help you?” Jim asked. “I’m handy -at odd jobs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you care to? I’ll be awfully glad of your -company,” said Sir John warmly. They went off -together, the boy’s great shoulders towering above -O’Neill’s dwarfed form.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim did not return until late that night. Norah, -just about to blow out her candle, heard his light step -on the stair and called to him softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not asleep yet, kiddie?” Jim said, sitting down -on the bed. “You should be; you’ll be tired to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right,” said Norah, disregarding this -friendly caution. “Jim, I packed your bag; and -there’s a list of things just inside it, in case I made -any mistakes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you are a brick!” said Jim, who was accustomed -to stern independence, but, like most people, -greatly appreciated a little spoiling now and then. -“I was looking forward rather dismally to a midnight -packing; O’Neill wants to get off quite early in the -morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We guessed that was likely. Did you have a good -day, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite. I don’t think I was any particular help -to O’Neill; he found a few jobs for me, but I fancy -he had to rack his brains for them. But we pottered -about together all day, and had a very jolly time; -he’s such fun when he’s in good form, and he was like -a kid to-day. Made me laugh no end.” Jim pondered, -beginning to unlace his boots. “I think it’s -only when he is alone that those bitter fits get hold of -him; and he just dreads being alone. That’s why -he took me over, of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought so,” nodded Norah. “But I do think -he’s happier than he was, Jim.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe he is. Well, we’ll try to keep him laughing -for the next week or so, anyhow,” said Jim. -“Now, you go to sleep, old kiddie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fine weather held, making it easy to leave trout -which would have nothing to do with them; and next -day the motor took them away into bypaths of -Ireland, with new beauty and new legend at every -turn. They passed Gartan, and saw the birthplace -of Saint Columba, a tiny stone cell with a curiously -indented stone; and Columba’s ruined church of grey -stone, roofless, and with almost-effaced carvings on -its walls. Near it a tall, narrow stone stood crookedly—all -that remained of a cross. The ground before it, -hard as iron, was hollowed where the knees of thousands -of pilgrims had knelt in prayer, and the stone -itself was smooth from kisses that had been pressed -upon it through century after century. Sir John -knew many legends of the hot-tempered, fighting -saint, whose warlike proclivities eventually led to his -banishment from the Ireland he loved, to work and -suffer home-sickness until Death came at last to release -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The emigrants pray to him specially, since he, -too, knew what it meant to be lonely for Ireland,” Sir -John said. “He was a worker: he wrote three hundred -books and founded the same number of churches. -So he came to be called Columcille—<span class='it'>cille</span> meaning -church. An O’Donnell he was: one of the old house. -He made a famous copy of the Psalms, the disputed -ownership of which caused the fight that led to his -leaving Ireland: and this copy—it was called The -Cathach, or Battler—was an heirloom in the O’Donnell -family, who always carried it with them into battle, -in a shrine. One hates to think of him, exiled, working, -and longing for home. The first monastery he -founded was near Derry; he was only a young man -then, but long afterwards he wrote that the angels -of God sang in every glade of Derry’s oaks. I always -think one can see him in this queer little church—big -and powerful, with the fighting face and toilworn -hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a time they kept near the railway that creeps -through the heart of Donegal: a quaint, narrow-gauge -line where the trains saunter, forgetful of time. Its -way runs through deep bogs, which made its construction -no light matter, since solid foundation was -in some places only found eighty feet below the surface, -and great causeways, embankments, and viaducts -had to be built to carry it. Sometimes, in contrast, -the way had to be hewn through solid rock. On one -hand lay wild and rugged mountains, with some fine -dominating peaks: Muckish—“the hog’s back”—with -its long, flattened ridge, changing from every -angle of vision; and the great peak of Errigal, bare -and glistening, the highest mountain in Donegal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a great old peak,” said Sir John, looking at -it affectionately. “You can see Scotland from the -top—and all over Donegal, and southward to the -Sligo and Galway hills.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How it glistens!” said Norah, watching the great -cone as the motor went slowly along. “What makes -it so white?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s white quartz; it gives it its name, ‘the -silver mountain.’ It looks a single peak from here, -but as we round it you’ll see that there are really two -heads close together; there is a narrow ridge, with a -track about a foot wide, connecting them. Some -day, when you all come back to stay with me at Rathcullen, -we must arrange an expedition for you to -climb it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their wandering way led them from the railway -line, after a time; and they struck northward into -lonely country of moors and bogs, dotted with tiny -cabins from which blue turf-smoke curled lazily. -Once they passed an old man riding a grey mare, -with his wife perched behind him on a pillion, holding -under her shawl a turkey in a sack, from the mouth of -which protruded the head of the indignant bird, -making loud protests. None of the women they met, -whether young or old, wore hats: all had the heavy -Irish shawl round head and shoulders,—and whether -the face that looked from the folds were that of a -withered old woman or a fresh and smiling colleen, -somehow the shawl seemed the best setting that could -have been devised for it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Often, for miles and miles, they met no one and -passed no habitation: or perhaps the loneliness of the -way would be broken by a little thatched cabin, where -ragged children ran to the doorway, to gaze, round-eyed, -at the strangers. In one little town, however, -a fair was in progress, and the cobbled street presented -a lively spectacle. Men, women and children; asses, -ridden and driven; horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs, -and a few stray geese, mingled in loud-voiced confusion, -while dogs slipped hither and thither, managing -to intensify the urgency of any situation. To get -the big Rolls-Royce through such a concourse was -no easy task, and even with a people so good-humoured, -a tactless driver would have achieved swift -unpopularity. Sir John, however, was at the wheel -himself, and he slowed down to a crawl, sounding the -hooter occasionally, more in the manner of a gentle -suggestion than anything else. His Irish accent was -a shade more in evidence than usual as he exchanged -greetings with the crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis a fine season we’re having, thank God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, your honour. G’wan now, Mary Kate; get -the little ass out of the way of the mothor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, don’t be hurrying her. I have plenty of -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure ye’d need it, your honour, the place is that -throng.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that’s a good sign; it’s a great fair you’re -having!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well indeed, sir, it is not bad, thank God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill swerved to avoid an old woman in an ass-cart, -who was talking volubly to some neighbours, -while the ass took its own direction among the crowd. -Voices broke into swift upbraidings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take a howld of the ass there, will you, Maria -Cooney!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, wirra, it’s desthroyed she’ll be!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will not, but the great mothor!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it to scratch the beautiful paint ye would, with -the cart!” cried a wrathful man hauling the ass aside -bodily, while the unhappy Mrs. Cooney stammered out -excuses that no one heard, and blinked feebly at the -Rolls-Royce—which was pardonable, since she had -never seen one before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God help us, ’tis the heighth of a house!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” said O’Neill, -smiling at her distressed face. The crowd broke into -smiles in answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis not like the Englishman he is—the one that -galloped his machine over Ellen Clancy’s gander, an’ -he goin’ to Rosapenna!” shrilled a voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Watch him now—and the bonnivs under the -wheels of him!”—as a drove of fat pink pigs broke -through the crowd, scattered, in the infuriating manner -peculiar to pigs, and resisted all efforts to collect -them out of harm’s way. Their owner, a lean, black-whiskered -man, lifted up his voice and bewailed them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yerra, he have them thrampled! No—aisy, sir, -just a moment, till I get at him with a stick. That one -do be always in the wrong place.” He hauled a pig -bodily from beneath the car, retaining it by one leg, -while it drowned any other remarks with its shrieks, -and its companions scattered through the crowd, -pursued hotly by the dogs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sorry—I ought not to bring a motor through a -fair,” said O’Neill, willing to concede the right to the -road to the “bonnivs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An’ why wouldn’t you?” said their owner, cheerfully. -“Many’s the time I’d not so much as the one -left to me when I’d brang ’em through, an’ I scourin’ -every boreen after them. Let you go on, sir—it’s -all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The motor wormed its way along. When the crowd -grew less congested, O’Neill ventured to increase the -speed. Just as he did so, a small child, escaping from -its mother, who was driving a wordy bargain over a -matter of geese, toddled into the road in pursuit of a -fat puppy; and having caught it, sat down suddenly, -right in the path of the motor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A girl shrieked, and O’Neill wrenched the car to a -standstill, the bonnet not two yards from the baby. -Jim was out in the road in a flash, and picked up the -urchin, who showed considerable annoyance at the -escape of the puppy, but was otherwise quite unmoved, -and accepted a penny with a composure worthy of a -duke. The crowd collected anew with unbelievable -swiftness, and O’Neill groaned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis Maggie O’Hare’s baby. Woman, dear, where -are ye? an’ he after being nearly kilt on ye?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did ye see his honour pull up? An ass wouldn’t -have done it, an’ he dhrawin’ a cart!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I seen him sit down in the road, in-under the -mothor, an’ I knew he was dead, only I’d not time to -let a bawl out of me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it dead? Sure, look at him, an’ the big gentleman -carryin’ him, no less!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grinning he is, the way you’d say he was the best -boy in Ireland. Ah, that’s the dotey wee thing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure, that one has no fear at all. <span class='it'>He</span>’ll be the boy -for the trenches!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this point Maggie O’Hare arrived breathlessly, -having just become aware of her son’s peril—with some -difficulty, owing to six of her friends having excitedly -explained the matter together. To an unprejudiced -onlooker, it would have seemed that her principal -maternal emotion was horror at finding her offspring -perched on Jim’s shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come down out of that, Micky—have behaviour, -now, an’ don’t be throublin’ the gentleman! Put -him down, sir—I’d not have you annoyed with him.” -She received Micky with much apparent wrath, but her -arms were tight round the little body. “Isn’t it the -rascal he is!—an’ I but lettin’ him out of me hand -that minute, the way I’d be feedin’ the goose!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In England, Jim had learned to give tips; and for a -moment his hand sought his pocket. Fortunately, he -checked the impulse in time. The woman’s eyes -met his with the good breeding that lends something -of dignity to the poorest Irish peasant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s a great boy,” he said, in his pleasant voice. -“Not a bit of fear in him—have you, Micky?” He -lifted his cap, and said “Good-bye,” striding back to -the motor. They moved on, slowly, leaving the little -town seething behind them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t altogether without incident to drive -through a fair!” said O’Neill, dreamily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Towards evening they came to their halting-place -for the night—a grey village, nestling among brown -hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The inn used to be very fair, but one can’t guarantee -anything in war-time,” Sir John remarked. -“Of course it isn’t big enough to suffer from the complaint -that suddenly affected all the important hotels—the -hurried departure of French cooks and German -waiters. Many hotel-keepers will speak until the end -of their lives, with tears in their voices, about the -awful day when Henri and Gaston, and Fritz and -Karl, the props of their establishment, dropped their -aprons and fled to their respective Fatherlands. You -can’t convince those hotel-keepers that they do not -know all about the horrors of war!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This little place doesn’t suggest imported cooks -and waiters,” said Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, as I remember it, the landlady was the cook, -and her daughter the housemaid; and a nondescript -gentleman of the ‘odd-boy’ type doubled the parts -of boots, barkeeper, groom, and waiter, with any other -varieties of usefulness that might be demanded of him. -And there he is still, by the same token, bringing in a -load of turf.” Sir John indicated a wiry little man -leading a shambling old black horse bearing two creels -slung across his back, piled high with sods. He turned -into the back gateway of the inn as they drew up at -the front door; and, hearing the motor, cast a glance -over his shoulder, realized the presence of guests, -and administered a sounding slap on the black horse’s -quarter, disappearing hurriedly. They heard his -voice, shrilly summoning the unseen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is himself within?—let ye hurry! There’s a -pack of gentry at the door, in a mothor-car!” And a -voice yet more shrill:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wirra! An’ me fire black out—an’ what in the -world, at all, ’ll I give ’em for their dinners!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They made acquaintance with the problem a little -later when, hungry and cheerful, they gathered in the -long, low dining-room, where last year’s heather and -ling filled the fireless grate. The “odd-boy,” cleansed -beyond belief, awaited them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What can we have for dinner?” O’Neill inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it dinner? Sure, anything you’d fancy, sir,” -said the “odd-boy,” with a nervous briskness that -somehow induced disbelief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“H’m,” said Sir John, remembering the cry of woe -that had floated through the air, earlier. “Chops or -steaks?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “odd-boy” shifted from one foot to the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afeard there’s none in the house, sir,” he said. -“ ’Tis the way the butcher——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh well—cold meat,” O’Neill said, cutting short -the butcher’s iniquities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir—certainly, sir!” said the “odd boy,” and -disappeared. There was an interval during which the -party admired the view and endeavoured to repress -the pangs of hunger. Finally the messenger reappeared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, nervously. “Cold meat -is off, they do be tellin’ me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what can we have?” O’Neill said, losing the -finer edge of his patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “odd-boy” grew confidential.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’Tis this way, sir,” he said. “The fair was yesterday: -an’ them cattle-jobbers have us ate out of the -house. So there’s just three things ye can have, sir: -an’ the first eggs; an’ the second’s bacon; and third -is eggs and bacon. An’ ye can have your choice-thing -of them three!”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch12'>CHAPTER XII<br/> <span class='sub-head'>ASS-CART <span class='it'>VERSUS</span> MOTOR</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And there is traffic on it, and many a horse and cart:</p> -<p class='line0'>But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through my heart.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Eva Gore-Booth.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>T</span>HROUGH the tiny window of Norah’s room came -the soft sunlight which makes an Irish morning -so perfect a thing that to stay in bed a moment longer -than necessary would be criminal. Norah woke up, -and looked at it sleepily for a few minutes, wishing the -window were bigger. It had altogether declined to -remain open the night before, until she had propped -it with the water-jug, which now stood rakishly on -the sill, and had already excited considerable interest -and speculation in the street below. She dressed -quickly, somewhat embittered by the fact that investigation -discovered no sign of a bathroom. The -search was a nervous one, since the corridor seemed -principally to consist of shut doors; and after cautiously -opening one which looked promising, but -which revealed a tousled head on a pillow, with loud -snores saluting her, she was seized with panic, and fled -back to her own room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she emerged, fully dressed, she still seemed -the only person awake. Downstairs, however, she -encountered the “odd-boy,” who was sweeping the -hall with a lofty disregard of corners, wherein the -dust of many sweepings had accumulated in depressing -heaps. Through a cloud of dust he blinked in amazement -at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Were you wantin’ anything, miss?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, thanks,” Norah answered; “I was going for -a walk. Is there anything to see in the village?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “odd-boy” thought deeply, and finally replied -with gloom that he didn’t know why anybody -would be looking at it at all. Then, suddenly inspired, -he hastened to the door in Norah’s wake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Willy Gallaher’s ould pig, miss, an’ she -after having eleven of the finest little ones yesterday. -Ye’d ought to see them. Willy’s the proud man. -’Twas himself was due for a bit of good luck, though, -with twins not a week old!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks,” said Norah, laughing. “But I’d rather -see the twins.” Which astounding preference left -the “odd-boy” gaping. Twins were a regrettable -everyday occurrence, but eleven “bonnivs” were the -gift of Providence, and not to be lightly regarded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah made her way up the narrow street. The air -was full of the pleasant smell of newly-lit turf fires, -and in the cottages the women were beginning their -day’s work. Children ran to peep over the half-door -at the stranger, and Norah, peeping over in her turn, -saw fat babies crawling about the earthen floors and -made friends with them until their mothers picked -them up and brought them to the half-door for further -admiration. Thus her progress up the street was -slow, and it was some time before she came to the outskirts -of the village and crossed a green where asses, -geese, fowls, and long-haired goats wandered sociably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beyond the green the high road curved, and, following -it, Norah came upon a narrow river that tumbled -from the hills, racing under an old bridge of grey stone -in a mass of foaming rapids. On the other side was a -little ruined castle, upon which she advanced joyfully, -with the passion for anything old which gave the -Australians the keenest enjoyment of all their experiences -of travel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not much of a castle; the walls had long since -collapsed into heaps of broken stone, most of which -had been carried away to build cabins and were now -concealed under the whitewash of years. A small -square tower yet stood, but was obviously unsafe, -since the crumbling stairway that wound upwards -inside it had been shut off by rusty iron bars. It was -not easy to make out the outlines of what had been -rooms, for the stones had fallen in all directions, and -grass and brambles grew wildly over them. But -everywhere, softening the cruelty and destruction of -time, ivy clambered; a kindly cloak of green that -blotted out harsh outlines and turned the whole into -something exquisite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah crossed the bridge and climbed upon a half-fallen -wall, perching herself on a huge flat stone that -lay bathed in sunshine. Above her the jackdaws -which nested in the ivy-covered tower chattered and -scolded, flying in and out to their homes; below was -no sound save the hurried babble of the river, where -now and then came the flash of a leaping trout. It -was very peaceful. She tried to “reconstruct” it in -the way they loved, seeing again the old days when the -castle stood proudly, and chieftains and fair ladies, -richly clad, moved about the rooms and looked through -the narrow window slits at the river, running just as it -ran to-day. It was a fascinating employment; so -that she did not hear a light step, until a falling stone -brought her back to the present with a jump.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I startle you?” Sir John asked, looking up at -her. “They told me you had gone out, and I guessed -that if you weren’t somewhere playing with a baby -you would have found the ruin!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The babies and the ruin are both lovely,” Norah -said, smiling. “I’m taking them in turn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you sleep well?” Sir John asked, climbing -up to the wall, and lighting a cigarette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, thanks; only the morning was too nice -to stay in bed. I had such a funny little room, all -nooks and corners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>I</span> had a feather bed!” said Sir John, with a wry -face. “Awful things; I don’t know how people ever -slept on them. It was very huge and puffy, and I -sank down into its depths, and felt as if the waters -were closing over my head. Then I dreamed wild -dreams of battle. Altogether, I feel as if I had an -adventurous night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I read once of an old woman who slept on a turkey-feather -bed for twenty years, until at last all the -feathers stuck together in a solid mass like a mat, and -he had a sealskin coat made out of it!” said Norah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d love to believe it, but it beats any fishing-yarn -I ever heard,” said Sir John, regarding her fixedly. -“Do you believe it yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know anything about the ways of featherbeds,” -Norah said, laughing. “But I always thought -she must have been an unpleasant old lady, for it -showed clearly that she hadn’t shaken up her mattress -for twenty years. Oh, Sir John, did you find a bathroom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not; there isn’t one. I’m sorry, Norah. -We ought to have better luck at our stopping-place -to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose one can’t expect baths everywhere,” -Norah said. “The queer part to us is being charged -extra for one’s tub; no hotel in Australia ever does -anything so ungracious. They rather encourage one to -take baths there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a ridiculous charge, especially where a water-supply -is no trouble,” O’Neill answered. “Did I -ever tell you the story of a friend of mine who was -staying in a very old-fashioned country-house, where -his early cup of tea was brought in by a very old butler? -My friend asked for a bath, and was told there was -no hot water available—‘the pipes have froze on us,’ -said the butler, sadly. Next day it was the same; but -the third morning the butler came in with triumph -in his eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Sure, the bath will be all right this morning, -sir,’ he said, confidentially. ‘I have the hot wather -beyant.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He went out, and returned panting under an -enormous bath of the flat tin-saucer variety, which -he put down with pride, while my friend—who happened -to be as big as your father—watched him, -much thrilled. Next he laid down a smart bath-mat, -and hung over a chair a bath-towel as large as a -sheet. Finally, he went out, and brought back a very -small can of hot water, which he poured very carefully -into the bath; as my friend said, it made a thin film -of wet on its great flat surface. The old butler straightened -up, beaming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Now, sir,’ he said, proudly—‘ye can have your -little dive!’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah’s shout of laughter was echoed by Wally and -Jim, whose heads suddenly appeared over the ivy-covered -wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see why you retire to ruins to tell your best -stories, O’Neill,” Jim said. “Also, we feel that it’s -breakfast-time, and we’ve been scouring the country -for you both.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I begin to feel that way myself,” Norah said, jumping -down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Linton was smoking in front of the hotel. In -the dining-room, the “odd-boy,” again thinly disguised -for the moment as a waiter, hovered about -their table for orders, a procedure which seemed superfluous, -since the possibilities of the house did not -exceed the inevitable bacon and eggs. No one, however, -was disposed to quarrel with the meal; and -very soon after, they were again on the road, leaving -the friendly little village by a winding highway that -soon brought them within sight and sound of the sea—one -of the deep inlets that thrust themselves far -into the wild northern coast of Ireland. The road -led, now close to the shore, now striking across country -to find a short cut over the neck of a peninsula. They -skirted little bays where a golden beach gleamed -invitingly, and ran out on rocky headlands, on which -the sullen sea thundered. Inland, the country grew -more and more lonely and desolate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How on earth do these people get a living?” Jim -ejaculated, looking at the wretched cabins in a tumbledown -village. “The soil is nearly all stone—and how -horribly bleak it must be in winter! This is July, -and still the wind is wild enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think they get much of a living at all,” -Sir John said. “Fishing helps, of course; and all -the able-bodied men hire themselves out for the harvesting -to Scotch and English farmers, and bring home -what seems a big sum in these parts, together with -stories of the wealth across the water:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The people that’s in England is richer nor the Jews—</p> -<p class='line0'>There’s not the smallest young gossoon but thravels in his shoes!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed, they don’t do that here,” said Mr. Linton, -looking at the ragged boy by the wayside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not they—shoes only come with years of discretion, -and often, not then. But don’t they look -rosy and well?—nothing of the pinched look of the -youngsters in a city slum.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—I think the air must be nourishing!” remarked -Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re quite right; it is. But they grow little -crops, in tiny corners between the stones. The soil is -bad enough; they are lucky if they are near the sea, -for then they can bring up mussels and kelp as manure. -There’s a woman bringing some now”; and Sir John -pointed to a bent figure, bare-legged, a red shawl over -head, and on her back a huge basket, beneath which -she was labouring up a steep cliff-path. “She has a -kish full of shell-fish there—you wouldn’t find it a light -load, even on the level, but they carry hundreds of -them up these cliffs. There are parts of Donegal so -bleak that they have to warm the ground before sowing -the seed; they burn the dried sea-weed on the -prepared soil, and sow the crop while the ashes are -still smoking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great Scott!” said Jim, feebly. “Fancy an -Australian doing that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sir John laughed grimly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fancy an Australian would flee in horror if he -were offered as a gift a tract of land that supports hundreds -of these people,” he said. “You should see -them reaping their tiny, pocket-handkerchief crops; -they do it with a little reaping-hook, and, upon my -word, some of them are so small that you might harvest -them with a pair of scissors! Of course they’re not -worth much; but then these people are accustomed -to live on very little, and they scarcely need more -than they have, if the sea is kind and the fishing fair. -They look wild enough; but they are intelligent, even -if ignorant, and you will always meet with courtesy -among them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They would make great fighting men,” Jim observed, -watching a broad-shouldered, dark-faced young -fellow who was digging in a tiny field by the road. -He had paused to look at the motor, one foot on the -spade, and his splendid young body upright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, every sound Irishman is that naturally,” -Sir John said, with a laugh. “And the women could -do their bit if occasion arose. Did you hear, by the -way, of the women of Limerick, when some of the -disaffected idiots of whom there are too many in the -country made a pro-German demonstration there -lately? They chose a day when most of the loyal men -of the city were away; these fellows were from Dublin, -and they made a procession and planned quite a little -show. But they reckoned without the women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What—did they take a hand?” asked Mr. Linton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They did, indeed, with sticks and stones and whatever -other missiles came handy. It was most effective: -they broke up the procession completely, and -the gallant rebels had to be rescued by the police. -The women had a great day. I asked one why they -didn’t leave the matter entirely to the police, and she -looked at me in scorn and asked why would they -accommodate themselves with the ignorance of policemen? -And indeed, I didn’t know. After all, some -things are managed much better without the law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The road had for some time been leading away from -the sea, and now began to climb up a steep cutting, -between rock-walls fringed with ferns and mosses. On -the hills above them a few goats browsed, their kids -cutting capers among the boulders, with complete -enjoyment of the game. They mounted steadily for -awhile; then, topping the rise, began to glide downwards. -The road turned and twisted as they neared -the level ground, following the course of a little stream -that came rushing from some unseen source. Sir -John, who was driving, sounded his horn steadily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are not many people on these roads,” he -said, over his shoulder. “But it doesn’t do to take -risks with the country folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. Still, I never saw a more desolate road, so -far as traffic goes,” Mr. Linton answered. “We have -not seen a soul for miles on it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think there <span class='it'>is</span> a soul on it,” said Sir John, -laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The motor swung round a corner, with a prolonged -hoot; and there, so close that the bonnet of the car -seemed almost to be touching the ass’s nose, came an -old woman, nodding sleepily in a cart. There was -no time to stop, and no room to turn. The ass planted -all four feet stubbornly, stopping dead, and they heard -a faint cry from the shawled old figure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit tight,” said O’Neill between his teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brake jammed hard on as he spoke; they had -been running down-hill slowly, with the power shut -off. The ass backed indignantly; and the great -motor swerved to one side, where there was a little -more room in the cutting, bumped heavily over dry -channels worn by the winter rains, and rammed her -bonnet gently into the rock wall. The occupants of -the tonneau found themselves in a heap on the floor. -The car throbbed to silence, and the old woman in the -ass-cart said, “God help us!” loudly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, indeed, He did,” said O’Neill, under his -breath. “Are you all right, all of you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re mixed, but undamaged,” Jim answered. -“What about you, O’Neill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m all right. How is she, Con?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Con had swung himself out before the car finally -stopped, and was examining the battered bonnet -dismally, finally appealing for help to push her away -from the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a minute,” O’Neill said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He walked over to the old woman, who still sat -motionless on the floor of the ass-cart, her withered -face pitifully afraid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you not hear the horn?” O’Neill asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did, sir—but I didn’t rightly know what it was, -an’ I half asleep.” She rocked herself to and fro, -wretchedly. “Oh, wirra, the great mothor! Is it -desthroyed entirely, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not—but it’s the mercy of Heaven we’re not -all killed, and you and the little ass, too. When you -hear that horn, mother, get to one side of a road -quickly: and don’t be afraid to call out, if it happens -to be a narrow road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I . . . I . . .” She looked at him helplessly, -her voice breaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t worry—you’re all right,” he said gently. -“Is it tired you are?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I been sittin’ up with my son these two nights,” -she said, finding words. “Mortal ill he was, an’ the -woman he married no more use than a yalla-haired -doll. An’ when they’re sick they do be wantin’ their -mothers again, like as if they’d gone back to be little -boys.” Just for a moment he caught a gleam of -triumph in her dulled eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And is he better?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is, sir, God be praised, and I’m gettin’ home -to me man; there’s no knowin’ what he’ll have done -to himself, not used to bein’ alone and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something passed from O’Neill’s palm into the -trembling, work-worn old hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s to bring you luck for your son,” he said, -forestalling her protests. “Let you get home, mother, -and have a meal. Wait a moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He unscrewed the cap of his flask, and made her -drink out of the silver cup, to her own great horror.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I’d a tin, itself!” she protested. “But your -honour’s cup!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drink it up,” said O’Neill, unmoved. He took -back the cup and stood aside; and the little ass moved -on, the old woman calling down blessings upon him, -with tears finding well-accustomed furrows down her -cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sitting up two nights, and probably doing the -work of the house during the day, in addition to nursing; -and most likely on bread and stewed black -tea!” said O’Neill, indignantly, striding back to the -motor. “You wouldn’t wonder if she went to sleep in -front of the car of Juggernaut. Poor old soul! I say, -you people have been busy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had levered the heavy car back, chocking the -wheels with great stones, and the chauffeur was making -explorations into her vital parts. Sir John joined -him, and they discoursed unintelligibly in technical -language.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it might be worse, but it’s not too good,” -Sir John said, at last, emerging from the investigation -and wiping his hands on a ball of cotton-waste. -“There’s no moving her without men and horses, -and no getting her going again until we get some spare -parts; and they’re no nearer than Belfast or Dublin; -possibly we shall have to telegraph to London for -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she’s not desthroyed entirely?” Norah said, -happily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is not. Hadn’t we the luck of the world that -it happened where it did, just on level ground and -where there was a little room to manœuvre! If it -had been three minutes earlier, on the side of the hill, -in the narrow cutting, we should simply have gone -clean over the poor old soul and her ass. Nothing -could have saved them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It might easily have been infinitely worse,” Mr. -Linton said. “But I’m sorry for the car, O’Neill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, the car’s nothing,” Sir John answered, cheerfully. -“I’m only sorry for the interruption to our -trip. However, things might be more uncomfortable. -We’re only three or four miles from Carrignarone, -where I meant to stop the night: there is quite a -passable inn there, small and homely, but it’s clean -and comfortable enough. We could stay there for a -few days, while Con goes to Belfast to get what is -necessary—that is, if you like. The coast is interesting, -and we might get some sea-fishing. Of course, if you -thought that too slow, we could drive to the railway, -and get back to Killard.” He looked rather wistful. -“I had hoped this was going to be such a jolly trip,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, so it is,” Jim responded. “I’m awfully -sorry for the damage to the motor, but we’re going to -have plenty of fun all the same. It will be rather good -fun to be on a coast again, and we’re all keen on sea-fishing. -And you know, O’Neill, we wouldn’t make -any definite plans, so that the unexpected could take -charge of us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has certainly done that,” Sir John said, laughing. -“Well, I think the next thing is lunch: a good -thing I got the hotel to put us up something, though -it will probably be only hard-boiled eggs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It <span class='it'>was</span> hard-boiled eggs, and they ate them merrily, -sitting on the bank of the little stream, where lichen-covered -boulders, smooth and weather-worn, made -convenient seats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am perfectly certain,” Mr. Linton said, “that -if I were in London and ate an enormous meal of -soda-bread, eggs like bullets, and very black tea out of -a Thermos, I should have dyspepsia. Not that I ever -had it; but the mixture sounds dyspeptic when you -couple it with London. But sitting on the bank of a -Donegal river it seems quite the proper thing, and I -shall be very well after it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No one could be anything but well in Donegal,” -Wally said, decisively. “Whew-w, Jim! think of the -trenches, in a fortnight!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” said Jim, -lighting his pipe. “I want my little hit-back at Brer -Boche, but I’d much rather it was in the open: there’s -no romance in war when you carry it on in an over-populated -ditch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lucky young animals!” said Sir John, openly -envious—and the boys flushed a little. As a rule, -they were careful not to talk of the Front in the presence -of the man whose whole soul longed to be out -there with them. “But you’ll all come back, won’t -you? and Mr. Linton, when the war is over, or when -these ancient campaigners next get leave, you will -bring them back to Rathcullen? I want to know -that that is a settled thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is a matter which I don’t need to put to the -committee,” Mr. Linton replied, looking at the cheery -faces. “We’ll certainly come, O’Neill, since you are -so good. And then, when we pack up finally for -Australia and Billabong, what about you? You -know it’s high time you visited that little country of -ours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s coming with us,” said Norah, with decision. -“Say you are, Sir John—please!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, indeed, I begin to think I am,” O’Neill -answered. “I was getting terribly old when you -invaded Donegal, but now I believe I shall soon be -nearly as young as Mr. Linton! At any rate, I might -follow you out.” But the boys protested, arguing -that there was no point in travelling alone when they -might make a family party.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be miles jollier,” said Wally. “Then -we could ‘personally conduct’ you to Billabong, and -you would have the unforgettable experience of seeing -Brownie go mad. I’m quite certain she and Murty -will be delirious on the day that Norah comes marching -home again!” So they planned happily, in gay -defiance of the guns thundering across the Channel. -That sullen menace was only a fortnight ahead, and -already Norah dreamed of it at night. But in the -daytime it was better to pretend that it did not -exist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Con was left with the motor, to administer what -“first-aid” was possible: and after lunch the rest of -the party set off along the road to Carrignarone, which -was reached after an easy walk of an hour and a half. -It was a little fishing-village, boasting a better inn than -others of its type, since in normal years the sport to be -obtained brought a small harvest of visitors. War, -however, had meant lean times—wherefore the people -of the inn fell thankfully on the windfall afforded -them by a stranded party of six, and ran three ways -at once in preparing for their comfort. A cart, with -a couple of strong horses, was forthcoming, and under -the charge of Jim and Wally, set off to the rescue of -the motor—which was eventually towed into the -village, where it caused what the war-reports term “a -certain liveliness.” At the steering-wheel sat Con, a -picture of humiliation—deepening to disgust when -the carter politely offered him a whip!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Them machines do be all very well to play with, -for genthry an’ for them that have too much money,” -said the carter, drawing a distinction that was not lost -on his hearers. “But ’tis mighty glad they are of the -ould horses when annything goes wrong with the -works!” Which was so obviously true at the moment -that no one had any spirit to contradict him.</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch13'>CHAPTER XIII<br/> <span class='sub-head'>THE CAVE AMONG THE ROCKS</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storming on their way,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shining green and silver with the hidden herring-shoal;</p> -<p class='line0'>But the Little Waves of Breffny have drenched my heart in spray</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the Little Waves of Breffny go stumbling through my soul.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Eva Gore-Booth.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>W</span>ALLY ran out upon a point of rock that ended -abruptly in a sheer face, under which the -outgoing tide ran swiftly, deep and green. For a -moment he stood motionless, his slim body gleaming -white against sea and rock; then he curved forward -and shot into the water in a clean dive that made -scarcely any splash. He reappeared, shaking the -water from his eyes, his brown face glowing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Coo-ee, Jim! Come on—it’s ripping!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim appeared from a cave, shedding the last of his -raiment. There was no pause in his dive; his swift -rush along the point ended in a leap that carried him -far out, and when he emerged, strong over-arm strokes -carried him quickly in towards a tiny bay where hard -yellow sand made a perfect landing-place. Wally -gave chase, unavailingly: when his feet touched the -shore Jim was already racing again along the rocks, -his dive this time beginning with a complete somersault -in the air, before, with a mighty splash, he disappeared -once more. Wally came hard upon his heels, -springing in, in a sitting position, his hands locked -under his knees; and for the next twenty minutes -the chums sported in the water like a couple of seals, -racing, playing tricks upon each other, and practising -the dozen different dives taught them in schoolboy -days in Australia. Finally they rubbed themselves -down with dry, warm sand, donned their clothes, -and subsided, glowing, on a sunny rock, to light their -pipes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a perfect place for a swim!” Jim said, -looking at the long, narrow inlet with its twin headlands. -“That point only needs one thing, Wal—a -really good spring-board.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Do you remember the big spring-board in -the St. Kilda baths—the one you broke when you were -trying how high you could spring before diving?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do I not!” said Jim ruefully. “It was the pride -of the baths, and replacing it made me a poor man for -the rest of the term!” He pitched a shell far out -into the sea. “Doesn’t that seem ages ago!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it is: anything that happened before the war -<span class='it'>is</span> ages ago,” Wally answered. “And I suppose, when -we get back to Billabong, all this”—he swept a comprehensive -gesture that included Ireland and Europe—“will -seem a kind of prehistoric dream. Anyhow it’s a -good dream while it lasts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it’s all too good to have missed it,” Jim -said. “Ireland has been jolly, beyond our hopes, -thanks to O’Neill—what a brick that poor chap is! -Now if we can only finish up by a bit of real fighting, -it will all be a huge lark. I’m not a scrap sorry to have -been in the trenches; it was all good experience. -But I say, Wal, I do want to get going above -ground!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” Wally answered. “I want to take a -hand in a general worry, and afterwards to be in it -when we chase the lovely Hun back to his happy home. -And I specially want to be there when we chase ’em -out of Brussels: I’d like to see that plucky Belgian -King marching down his main street again. Won’t -they howl!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll all howl when that day comes,” said Jim. -“You know, Ireland has been just topping, and it’s -jolly to be with old dad and Norah again; but I’m -beginning to think it’s about time we got back to work. -We’re fit as possible now; and we didn’t sign on to -play about. This sort of thing”—he touched his -rough tweed clothes—“was all very well when we -were crocks. But we aren’t crocks now. I think, of -course, that it was only common sense to get quite -fit; they don’t want half-cured people over yonder. -Still——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still, being cured, it’s time we dug out our khaki -again,” Wally said, nodding. “I quite agree: one -would begin to feel a shirker if one stayed much longer. -And Australians haven’t shown themselves shirkers -in this war.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. It’s funny, you know,” Jim reflected. “I -did hate the trenches—the filth, and the flies, and the -smells, and the vermin; and I used to wonder if I -was a tin-soldier, and had no business to have come -at all, because lots of chaps say they love it, no matter -what the conditions are. Well, I didn’t love it; I’d -sooner have driven bullocks, any day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Same here,” said Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It used to buck me that you felt the same,” Jim -said, “because of course I knew you weren’t any tin-soldier, -and the other fellows used to say how keen -you were, and that you’d get on well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But they said just the same to me about you, you -old ass!” said Wally laughing. “Who got a special -pat on the back at the last inspection, I’d like to -know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that was only luck,” said Jim, much embarrassed. -“Bit of eye-wash for the C.O. Anyway, -I used to worry for fear I wasn’t any good at the game; -and it worried me that I was so awfully glad to come -away, after they gassed us. But lately, I’ve been a -bit bucked, because I’m getting no end keen to be -back. We’ll hate it again, I’m certain. But one has -got to see the job through. You feel it too, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ’M,” nodded Wally. “I suppose it’s just the -beastliness one hates, but one likes one’s job.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I expect so. I used to get horribly annoyed with -young Wilson, in my platoon, but I’d like uncommonly -to know how the little beggar is shaping now, -and who has the handling of him. He’s a queer-tempered, -obstinate, cross-grained varmint, but he’ll -do anything for you if you treat him like a human -being. Only you can’t drive him. I hope we’ll get -our old crowds back—though I’m afraid it’s rather -too much to hope for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid so,” Wally agreed. “My corporal was -a dear old thing; only he would persist periodically -in forgetting that I was grown-up. I don’t blame -them—the old N.C.O.’s know ever so much more than -we do. That chap had been all over the world, and -seen no end of service; he’d have had a commission -if he could have kept off beer. It was when he was -drunk that he used to think I was his small boy. I -had my own troubles with him”—and Wally grinned -reminiscently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were such a good lot of fellows,” Jim said. -“Oh, it will be pretty good to get back; and to see -Anstruther and Garrett and Blake, and all the crowd -again, and make them fight their battles over for us. -It’s one of the annoying parts about our dose of gas -that I haven’t the slightest recollection of our own -little scrap. I used to remember the beginning; -but now my only memory is of you sitting on a biscuit-tin -eating bully, and I’m sure that happened before -the fun began. I wonder if the other fellows will have -much to talk about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, <span class='it'>we</span> won’t, anyhow,” Wally said. “Ireland -isn’t the place for adventures. Let’s hope we may -get some good specimens of our own in Flanders—and -in Germany—and then we needn’t envy any of ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” assented Jim. “I say, suppose we -move on—the sun isn’t as hot as it was, or I’m colder -than I was; and anyhow, we may as well explore.” -He sprang up, followed by his chum, and they strolled -across the rocks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The party had been at Carrignarone for three days, -and there was, as yet, no word from Con, who had -departed on an outside car, <span class='it'>en route</span> to Belfast, to -obtain what was necessary to restore the motor to -health. Not that anyone minded the delay. The -little inn was clean and well-kept; the sea-fishing was -good, and the bathing perfect; while the shore, with -its alternating strand and rock, was a never-failing -fascination. Wally and Jim had made friends with -an old fisherman, who had taken them out with him -very early that morning; and luck had been so good -that they had come in some hours earlier than they -were expected, so that the big haul they brought could -be taken to the railway and landed in Dublin in time -for the next morning’s market. At the inn, they found -that Sir John, Norah, and Mr. Linton had gone out, -leaving no word of their movements; so the boys, -after an enormous lunch, had departed to explore -the shore farther than their previous walks had led -them, until the long narrow inlet had tempted them -to bathe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They strolled round the beach from the point where -they had dived, now and then picking up a curious -shell or some sea-treasure that might be included -in the parcels that went periodically to Billabong, -where Brownie would have cherished the veriest -rubbish if only her nurslings had gathered it for her. -The tide was almost out, and at the farther headland -the rocks lay uncovered for a long way, full of alluring -rock-pools, gleaming with sea-anemones. It was impossible -to round the point, however, for it was higher -than the other headland, and the water roared at -its base, even at low tide; so they strolled back across -the rocks, looking for the nearest place where it would -be possible to climb up and cross the point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The crags above them grew more accessible presently, -and they scrambled up, slipping and clambering -until they found themselves on a jutting rock with a -wide flat surface, which, bathed in sunshine, invited -them to stop and rest. Loose fragments of rock lay -about the flat top, and Wally perched on one, but -rose hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That thing wriggled under me,” he said, “It’s -just on the balance: I believe I could push it over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘That Master Wally have the mischieviousness -of ten boys,’ as Brownie used to say,” Jim remarked, -lazily. “Sit down, and don’t play tricks with the -landscape.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be considerably like hard work, so I -don’t think I will,” said Wally, sitting down on another -fragment. “This old table of a rock wants tidying -up, I think—did you ever see so many loose chunks -scattered about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I expect a bit of the cliff fell on it from above, and -flew into bits,” said Jim. “Anyhow, it’s warm and -jolly. What’s that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something tinkled on the rock, and Wally uttered a -sharp exclamation of annoyance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Botheration! That’s my knife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hard luck!” said Jim, looking at a cleft in the -surface, down which the knife had vanished. “Never -mind; I’ve got two with me, and you can have one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks, but I don’t want to lose that fellow,” -Wally said, vexedly. “It’s that extra-special knife -Norah gave me when I was going out—the big one she -called ‘the lethal weapon.’ It’s full of all sorts of -dodges. I’d sooner lose a lot of odd things than that -knife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lay flat, and put his eye to the cleft in the rock, -peering downwards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Afraid it’s gone for good, old man,” Jim said. -“It’s hard luck—but Norah will understand. She’ll -probably jump at the chance of giving you another.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want this one,” said Wally, his voice slightly -muffled. He peered harder. “I say, Jim, I can see -daylight down here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see how you can,” Jim said, leaning over -in his turn. “This old rock seems pretty solid. Let’s -look.” He applied his eye to the cleft, in his turn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there is light,” he said presently, sitting up. -“I wonder if there’s some opening below, Wal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t know, but I’m going to see,” Wally answered. -He swung himself over the edge of the flat -rock and climbed down, followed by his chum. They -hunted about the great pile, seeking for some opening -that might explain the glimmer of daylight that had -greeted them above.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one side of the mass was the long stretch of rock -from which they had first climbed up; but on the -other they found smooth hard sand, only lately under -water. There were openings here and there among -the boulders, but they led to nothing, and had no -communication with the upper air; they explored -them in turn, but found no solution of the problem. -Then, as Wally was backing out on hands and knees -from one of these false scents, he heard a low whistle -from Jim, and hurried round a boulder, to find him -regarding what looked like a slit, about three feet -high, between two masses of rock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s some sort of a cave in there,” Jim said. -“I’ve been in a little way, and it looks rather interesting, -so I came back for you. There’s light far -above one’s head; I believe we’ll find your knife -there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They crawled into the narrow passage. Almost -immediately it turned, so sharply that a casual searcher -might easily have been misled into thinking it ended: -and then it widened and they found themselves in a -long, narrow cave. They could see no roof; but far -above, a faint bar of light glimmered, and made it -possible to see where they were going. Underfoot -was hard sand. The walls were dripping with wet -and encrusted with seaweeds and limpets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is a real sea-cave,” Wally said cheerfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An echo took his voice and went muttering round -the rocks, the mutter rising at length almost to a cry. -It was an eerie sound, in the wet dusk of the cave, -with the dark smell of a submerged place in their -nostrils; and the boys jumped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess this isn’t a place to raise one’s voice in,” -Wally said, dropping his to a whisper. “That’s a -nice, tame echo; I’d like to take it back to Billabong!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you!” uttered Jim, with feeling. “The -blacks would say it was the Bunyip come back; and -anyhow, you’d get into trouble for bringing out a prohibited -immigrant.” He made a quick pounce on an -object that glittered faintly on the sand. “There’s -your knife, old man!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless you!” said Wally, thankfully receiving his -property. “I say, what luck! and haven’t you the -eye of a hawk?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I kicked it,” said Jim. “A good thing it’s -so big: I always thought Norah gave it to you with -the idea that you might club a few Germans with it, -if you got the chance—and scalp ’em afterwards. -Get out!—” as Wally tipped his cap off. “Remember -that you’re in a subterranean locality, and behave as -such. Hark at that echo!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had raised his voice, unwittingly, and the echo -had sent it shrieking round the cave. It was quite a -relief when the sound died away to a low murmur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not at all sure that it isn’t the Bunyip, an’ -he livin’ here at his aise, as Con would say,” Wally -muttered. “Come on; we’ll see how far this place -goes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The light grew dimmer as they moved on, away from -the crack overhead. Fortunately, Jim was never to -be found without a tiny electric torch in his pocket, -and its little beam of light was sufficiently to guide -them. But for the torch their explorations would -certainly have come to an end immediately, for it -was not half a minute before they found themselves -against a wall that apparently ended the cave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it isn’t much of a cavern, after all,” Jim -remarked. “Not bad as a dressing-room for Norah, -if she wants to bathe from this beach—there’s clear -sand right down to the water from the entrance in one -place. She will have to come at low tide, though.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flashed his torch into the comers as they turned -to retrace their steps. One was plainly nothing but -solid wall: but in the other something caught his eye; -a darker patch of shadow that was not quite like the -rock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I believe there’s an opening in that corner,” -he said. “It must be another cave, communicating -with this one. Come and see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The opening was only wide enough to admit one at a -time, and so screened by a jutting boulder that it was -almost invisible. Within was a cave very like the -first one, though much larger; differing from it, too, -in that the sand ended, and the floor was of fairly -smooth rock, which, in the middle, held a great pool of -water. This time there was no doubt that they were -at the end of their subterranean journey; Jim flashed -the light right round the wall, but there was no break -in the solid rock, glistening with wet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, that’s the finish,” Wally said. “It isn’t a -wildly exciting place, except for that demoniacal echo. -We’ll bring Norah and the others here and make it -talk. I’d like to hear what its little efforts would be -like if one gave a football yell!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something would break,” said Jim, suppressing a -laugh. He strolled across to the pool, and turned the -light on its black surface.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is a deep and mysterious and probably, -haunted water-hole and you’d better be careful,” -said Wally in a sepulchral whisper. “Most likely -the Bunyip lives there, and in a moment we shall see -his grisly head emerge from the unfathomed depths, -and then all will be over with two promising young -officers of His Majesty’s Army.” He paused for -breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Idiot!” said Jim, pleasantly. “I wonder if it’s -deep. Lend me your stick, Wal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leaned over the pool and thrust the stick into its -depths. It went in for its full length. Then came a -sound which made the boys look at each other in bewilderment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It sounds as if the Bunyip had been chucking his -old tins in,” Wally said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s tin, I’ll swear,” Jim answered. “And solid -at that; I can’t move it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took off his coat, rolled his shirt-sleeve to the -shoulder, and recommenced investigations. It was -easy enough to feel the stick scraping on tin; beyond -that, he could make out nothing, save that there was -plenty of tin to scrape. Jim desisted at length, and -stood pondering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think this is pretty queer,” he said, presently. -“Wonder if we’ve stumbled on a smuggler’s cave, Wal. -Look here, I’m going to paddle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you don’t know the depth of that beastly -place,” Wally said. “For all we know it may be miles -deep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, can’t I swim?” Jim queried in amazement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, a little. Anyhow, I’m coming, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim laughed softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought that was it,” he said. “Look here—you -stay at the edge with the light, and I’ll hold one -end of the stick, and you can hang on to the other. -That will make it all right. There’s no sense in out -both paddling in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally assented, more or less reluctantly; and Jim -took off his boots and stockings and rolled his trouser-legs -high. Then, he stepped carefully into the black -pool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By Jove, it’s cold!” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the bottom like?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fairly smooth.” He moved on, becoming less -cautious. Then he uttered an exclamation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s up?” came from Wally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve stubbed my silly toe against something—my -own fault.” Jim answered. “Why, it’s another -tin!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stooped, feeling in the water. Presently he let -go of the stick, and plunged both hands in: and in a -moment turned, carrying something that was evidently -heavy. He put it on the rock at the edge of the pool, -and stepped out of the water. Wally flashed the light -on the treasure-trove, and then whistled softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Petrol!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pool is full of it, I believe: I felt lots of other -tins.” He turned the big square can over and over, -finding no mark upon it. “H’m. Now I’m going to -put it back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why are you in such a hurry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I don’t know whom we have to deal -with,” Jim said. He waded in again and replaced -the heavy tin, returning quickly, and picking up his -boots and stockings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Slip out and reconnoitre, carefully,” he said. -“Take care that you aren’t seen. Find out if anyone -is in sight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wally returned in a few minutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a soul,” he reported. “And there’s not a -footmark visible on the sand, except our own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good, anyhow,” Jim said. “We’ll get out -of this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He led the way out, not speaking until they were -clear of the rocks near the cave. Then he sat down, -and for the first time the two boys looked at each -other. Their faces were grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s submarines, of course?” Wally asked. “Germans?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t be anything else. And what a depôt! -Look at this inlet—shut in by the headlands, with a -perfect sandy bottom: a submarine could come in -here and lie in complete safety, and no one would -ever dream of looking for her. The cave is not five -minutes from the water’s edge, even at low tide—of -course, no one could get in to it at all unless the tide -were right out: when it is in there’s a foot of water -over the entrance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—and at low tide the sand is as hard as iron,” -Wally said, excitedly. “They could fill their collapsible -boat with petrol tins in ten minutes with two -or three men to fish them out of the water and a few -more to carry them down. Oh, Jimmy, we’ve got to -bag them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” Jim answered. “The question is, -how?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He thought deeply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must be awfully careful,” he said, at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s much too big and important for us to mess up by -trying to keep it to ourselves. But there isn’t a -policeman in the district, and if there were, he might -mess it up as badly as ourselves. We’ve got to get a -patrol-boat round to the inlet somehow; you know -they’re all round the coast, and it wouldn’t take long -to bring one here. But one doesn’t know whom to -trust. The Germans may be getting help from on -shore, for all we can tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course they may,” Wally cried. “People say -there are plenty of pro-Germans about; and they’d -pay well enough to tempt these peasantry. But all -the people we’ve talked to in Carrignarone seem just as -keen as we are about the war. I don’t believe they’re -in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Neither do I, but it’s hard to tell,” Jim answered. -“Oh, it’s maddening!—the brutes may come in to-night, -for all we know! We can telegraph to the -nearest coastguard station, of course, or wherever one -can catch a patrol-boat—there are some sort of instructions -about submarines and aeroplanes posted -up in every post-office. But she might not be in -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose we can trust the postmistress?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we can’t, we’re done,” Jim said. “If only the -motor were all right we needn’t trust anyone. Isn’t -it simply sickening to think we may do the wrong -thing altogether? And if we make a mistake, and -the submarine gets away with a fresh supply of petrol, -she may sink half a dozen <span class='it'>Lusitanias</span> before she is -caught!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve just got to get her,” Wally said, between -his teeth. “It seems to me there’s only one thing -to do: we must telegraph for the patrol-boat, and, -meanwhile, watch every night at low tide. It’s a -comfort that they can’t get into the cave at any other -time, isn’t it? I say, Jim, your father said we were -kids to bring our revolvers with us—but isn’t it a -mercy we did!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” Jim said. The revolvers had been new -toys; they had not felt able to part from them. -“And O’Neill has one, too—you remember, he said -we might have some shooting-practice in these lonely -parts and teach Norah how to use one.” He became -silent, suddenly, and Wally, watching his thoughtful -face, did not interrupt him. After a while he spoke, -half-apologetically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, Wal, old chap.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” Jim said. “It’s your show as much -as mine, of course, and I won’t do anything to which -you don’t agree. But——” he stopped again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, do go on!” said Wally. “Say it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s just this. We’ll get lots of shows later -on, if we’ve any luck: not so important as this, perhaps, -but still, there ought to be chances. Anyhow, -we’re able to go out to the Front and do our bit. And -that poor chap isn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O’Neill?” Wally said. “No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—do you see what I mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It takes brains,” said Wally, laughing. “But I -think I do. You want to make this his show?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t hurt us,” he said. “He is such a -brick, and he’s eating his heart out over the whole -thing. It’s just the toughest sort of luck—and here -he is, knocking about with us and giving us a ripping -time, and you’d think that every time he looks at us -it must remind him of what he wants to have and -can’t. And now here’s a thing he could be right in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” Wally said. “I’m jolly glad you -thought of it, old man. And it isn’t any beautiful -sacrifice on our parts, either, for he has tons more -brains than we have, and he’s a first-class shot. Let’s -get him to run it altogether, and we’ll be his subalterns.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim sighed with relief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seemed a bit hard to ask you to give up the -credit,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what about you?” grinned Wally</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, credit be hanged!” said Jim, laughing. -“Anyhow, we’ll get all the fun!”</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo225.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“Wally flashed the light on the treasure-trove, and then whistled softly.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab8' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab8c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab8c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page</span> 225</td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='ch14'>CHAPTER XIV<br/> <span class='sub-head'>A FAMILY MATTER</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“To count the life of battle good,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And clear the land that gave you birth,</p> -<p class='line0'> And dearer yet the brotherhood</p> -<p class='line0'>  That binds the brave of all the earth.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Henry Newbolt.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>J</span>OHN O’NEILL was dressing for dinner: an operation -which consisted in putting on a clean soft -collar and brushing his hair, since the travellers’ possibilities -of toilet were limited to one small kit-bag -apiece. To him there came a discreet knock on the -door; and Wally and Jim, suitably apologetic, appeared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look like conspirators,” said Sir John, surveying -the pair. “What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve struck a job that’s a size too large for us,” -Jim answered. “So we’ve come meekly to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill’s short laugh was rather bitter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too large for <span class='it'>you</span>!” he said. “If that’s the case, -it would be rather an out-size for me, I should say.” -His look travelled over the two tall lads, wiry and -powerful. “Unless—it isn’t money, I suppose, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, indeed; it’s brains!” Jim answered. “And -we haven’t got any. Anyhow, we don’t know how to -handle this situation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m at your disposal,” Sir John said. “Fire -away—there’s plenty of time before dinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve found a little submarine supply-depôt,” -Jim said. “What does one do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill dropped his brush, and stared at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You say it much as you might say, ‘We’ve found -a mushroom: how do we cook it?’ ” he uttered. “It -isn’t a joke, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed it’s not,” the boy said, quickly. “It’s -because it’s so horribly serious that we’ve come to -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But—where?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a little inlet about a couple of miles up the -coast,” Jim said. “Funny little shut-in place: you -could sail past it outside and never notice it, the headlands -are so close together.” He described their discovery -briefly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill sat down on the side of his bed and knitted -his brows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, the first thing is to get a patrol-boat -down,” he said. “As it happens, I know Bob Aylwin, -who is in command of one of them: his headquarters -are at Port Brandon, and he could get here quite -quickly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then we must telegraph, I suppose,” Jim said. -“But we were wondering if it would be safe; things -leak out so quickly in a tiny place like this, and you -know that people ashore are said to be helping the -submarines in some districts. One doesn’t like to -misjudge anyone, but——” He paused, knitting his -brows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One has to suspect every one,” O’Neill said, -shortly. “And telegrams are horribly public things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If only the motor were available!” Wally said, -anxiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stared at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t you know Con was back? He turned up -early this morning, with the things he went for: and -he and a handy man he picked up have been inside her -bonnet ever since. He came in just now to report -that she is ready to start.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, good business!” ejaculated Jim. “Will you -send him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill thought swiftly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can trust Con absolutely,” he said. “But he’s -an ignorant lad, and he is lame. Would your father -go with him, do you think?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll do anything,” Jim said, quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wally, will you bring him here?” O’Neill asked. -“Hurry!” He sprang to the table and opened a -touring map of Donegal. “Where’s your inlet, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here,” Jim replied, promptly, indicating a tiny -indentation on the rugged coast-line.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill drew a line round it with a red pencil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will be quite clear on Aylwin’s charts, of course,” -he said. “This will be sufficient guide to begin with. -Now can you draw a rough plan of the cave and the -path down to the water? I’ll explain to your father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Linton came hurrying in, and at Sir John’s -request Wally told him the story, illustrating it with -Jim’s drawing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know the inlet,” David Linton said; “I walked -past it the other day when I was out for an early-morning -stroll. Queer, land-locked corner: I marked -it down as a good bathing-place for you youngsters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s excellent, for you’ll be able to direct them -by land, if necessary. Now, will you go in the motor -to Port Brandon, Mr. Linton? it’s only twenty miles, -and Con knows the roads. They’re not good, but he’ll -get you there quickly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll do anything you like,” David Linton said. -“What will you do here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sir John had taken instinctive command of the -situation. For a few moments he did not speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aylwin must use his own judgment about coming,” -he said. “He may not want to appear here in daylight, -for fear of scaring the enemy away; on the -other hand, they may be here already, lying snugly -on the bottom of the inlet, and only waiting for night -and low water to get the petrol. You say the pool -was full of it, Jim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So far as I could tell. I poked with a stick from -one side, and waded in from the other. The tins are -stacked in it; I don’t think they can have taken any -out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the more likely that they will soon be in,” -O’Neill said. “I knew they had been in the north -lately; the brutes nearly got one of our transports. -But if Aylwin shows up off the mouth of the inlet he -may scare them away altogether. If one knew what -was best to do! We’ve got to bag them!” His eyes -were dancing. “Great Scott! what a chance it is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There came a knock at the door, and Norah’s voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is dad here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The conspirators looked at each other guiltily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Norah must be told,” Jim said. “She’s perfectly -safe; and we can’t carry on this without explaining -to her, poor kid. May she come in, O’Neill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sir John was already at the door. Norah, her face -troubled, spoke hurriedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been looking everywhere for dad or the boys. -Are they here, Sir John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come in, if you don’t mind,” O’Neill said, holding -the door open. He closed it carefully behind -her. “We’re having a council of war, Norah, -and——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim interrupted him, watching his sister’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there anything wrong with you, Nor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s something I thought I’d better tell you,” -Norah said. “I went along the road just now with -some sweets for those babies in the end cottage, beyond -the village; and coming back I got over the -bank into the field to get some wild flowers. Just -as I was going to climb back I heard voices, and I -peeped through the hedge and saw two men—men in -rough clothes. They had been buying things in the -village, for they had parcels, and some bread that -wasn’t wrapped up. So I bobbed down behind the -hedge until they had gone past—they didn’t look nice, -somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Jim. “Did they see you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, it’s a lonely bit of the road, and there are no -houses. I don’t suppose they even thought of any -one being there. And, Jim, they were talking in -German!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfectly. I couldn’t make out what they said, -for their voices were very low—and anyhow I never -learned enough German at school to understand it -when spoken. But I do know the sound of it, and I -caught one or two words.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill drew a long breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If that U-boat isn’t lying on the bottom of the -inlet I’ll eat my hat!” he said. “Probably they -put up a collapsible boat last night and sent her round -to some other beach—they’ll take risks to get fresh -food. And to-night she’ll paddle back and get her -cargo of petrol, and the submarine will take her on -board and slide out to do a little more pirate-work. -But we may have a few remarks to make first. If I -only knew what Aylwin would want to do!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat down, and put his face in his hands. Presently -he looked up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim—is there driftwood on the shore?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lots,” said Jim, briefly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right. Could we get some up on one of -the headlands?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—easily. We were bathing off the northern -point, and there’s quite an easy way up—it isn’t nearly -as high as the southern headland. Do you mean -enough for a fire?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Mr. Linton, will you tell Captain Aylwin -that he need not come right in to shore. We will -build a signal-fire on the northern headland, and watch -the cave at low tide—that will be about two o’clock in -the morning. If the Germans come ashore, we’ll light -the fire—we can carry up a few bottles of petrol from -the motor supply to soak the drift-wood. Aylwin can -have a boat ready and come in if he sees the blaze; -unless he sees it he will know they won’t land for -another twenty-four hours, for they’ll never try it in -the daytime. Is that clear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite. I have only to describe the place to Captain -Aylwin, tell him about the signal-fire, and accompany -him if he needs me. Otherwise, I suppose I may -break the speed-limit in coming back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. There’s a wireless station up there—they’ll -get Aylwin for you. If he should be away -they will know where to send a message.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well. And what will you three do?” David -Linton’s eyes lingered hungrily on his son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can only get the beacon ready, and then -watch. Two of us can hide near the cave, and the -third must be up on the point to light the fire if he -hears a shot. If they come—well, we must let them -land and get to the cave; and then we must try to -prevent their getting back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will be heavily outnumbered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—but the advantage of surprise will be on our -side, and we can take cover. I do not dare to get -help; it may not be safe to trust anyone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well,” David Lint on said, quietly. “Will -you order the motor, O’Neill? I can be off in three -minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook hands with the boys, wishing them luck -very gravely knowing that in all probability it was -the last time he should speak to them. Jim went -downstairs with him, without a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Con and the motor were at the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll be there by eight o’clock, with luck,” -O’Neill said. “Remember, you’re racing, Con. And——” -He dropped his voice. “I’ll keep him safe -for you if I can, sir.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks,” said David Linton. He shook hands with -his boy again. The motor whirred off in a cloud of dust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went up the staircase in silence, to where -Norah and Wally waited for them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wally has told me all about it,” said Norah, pale, -but steady-eyed. “Oh, Sir John, I could help! Do -let me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can help by keeping out of harm’s way,” he -told her, gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you all fighting!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Norah, dear, we can’t have you in it,” O’Neill -said. “I know it’s hard: far harder than anything -we have to do. But you have too much sense not to -know that this isn’t woman’s work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah choked back a sob.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know you couldn’t have me where there’s shooting,” -she said. “But I can do something, if you’ll -let me: and in Australia women always did help men -when there was need, and they didn’t talk about things -being ‘women’s work.’ Women had to fight the -blacks, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Norah, we <span class='it'>can’t</span> let you fight,” Jim said. “Be -sensible, old kiddie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to fight,” said poor Norah. “At -least, I do, but I know that’s out of the question. But -why on earth shouldn’t I light the beacon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because there would be risk,” O’Neill said roughly. -“Norah, I hate hurting you. Don’t make it harder -for us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to, indeed I don’t,” Norah faltered. -“But . . .” There was a lump in her throat, and -she turned away, fighting for her voice. Jim’s arm -round her shoulders steadied her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know you’ll be outnumbered,” she said. -“You can’t tell any of these people, and there are -only the three of you until daddy brings help. And -one of you is going to light the beacon! If you let -me do it, it leaves you all free to fight; and there’s no -risk to me. No one will be on the point. I’d only -have to light a match and get out of the way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Wally, his young voice strained. “You -aren’t going to do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know what it will be,” Norah said. “The one -of you who lights the beacon will come tearing down -the rocks to help the others, and the Germans will -just shoot him easily. I needn’t do that; I can hide -up on the point. There isn’t any risk—not a bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Norah, Norah, I wish you’d gone to bed!” -uttered Jim. “Don’t you see we can’t let you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t,” said his sister. “You haven’t any -right to stop me. You know it will be only a chance -if you three can stop the submarine going out if help -doesn’t come in time. And if there are only two of -you, it’s so much less chance. Dad’s gone away -looking dreadful, only he wouldn’t say a word, because -he knows he hasn’t any right to hinder you.” Norah -was sobbing openly now. “And you have no right -to lose any chances. We can’t let that beastly thing -go out, to sink other ships full of women and kiddies -like the <span class='it'>Lusitania</span> babies. Goodness knows I’m f-fool -enough,” said poor Norah. “But at least I can put a -match to a fire!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s quite right,” Jim said, quietly. “All serene, -Nor. Buck up, old kiddie!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim—you can’t——!” Wally burst out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t agree to it,” John O’Neill said, wretchedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s quite right,” Jim repeated. “The job is -bigger than we are. It’s only a question, as she says, -if all three of us can check those people at the cave: -and if we can get the beacon lit in any other way, we -simply have no right to reduce our number by one-third. -There really should be no danger: she has -only to put a match to it, and get away before the -firelight shows her up.” He spoke firmly, but his -young face was drawn and haggard. “I am quite -sure dad would say the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know he would,” Norah said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I thought this was rather a lark!” said -Wally, with a groan. He turned and walked to the -window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you are certain your father would be satisfied, -I have no more to say,” O’Neill said. “It certainly -makes an enormous difference: three can stop a rush -where two would be hopelessly outclassed. And the -man coming down from the headland wouldn’t have a -chance: the people on the submarine would get him -in a minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remember,” said Wally sharply, turning from the -window, “as soon as your match is lit, duck, and crawl -away. That old wood will flare wildly directly it’s -lit, if it’s soaked in petrol. Don’t wait a second.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t,” said Norah, and nodded at him cheerfully. -“Don’t worry; I’ll be all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right! I think it’s awful to let you do it!” -Wally uttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wally, I’ve <span class='it'>got</span> to. Don’t you see I have?” -Norah put her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said. “All our lives put -together don’t matter twopence if we can put an end -to even one submarine. I know we must let you. -But I wish to goodness we’d left you in Australia!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wally!” Norah flushed scarlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say . . . I didn’t mean to be a beast,” the boy -said, contritely. “Only—I just can’t stand it!” -He went out, his swift strides echoing down the corridor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t mind him, little chap: he’s only worried -about you,” Jim said, gently. “He’ll be all right -when he comes back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At any rate, we mustn’t have you bothered,” Sir -John said, patting Norah’s shoulder. “You’ll need -to be quite calm and cool for your job, and for getting -away quietly after it. And I really don’t believe -you’ll be in any danger; the Germans can’t possibly -rake that point with gunfire from the submarine. -They might hit a standing figure, but not one lying -flat. And I hope the men on shore will be too busy -to take interest in beacons.” There was a grim note -in his voice, but his face was extraordinarily happy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The more I think of it,” Jim said, “the more -likely it seems that we’re here just in time. You -see, they can’t get into the cave except at low tide; -and of course they want darkness. But there’s very -little darkness just now; it’s twilight until nearly -ten o’clock, and then dawn comes not long after three, -or even earlier. The tide is out just before dawn: -the very best time for them to work. In a few days -it would not suit them nearly so well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite so,” O’Neill said. “Everything seems to -point to to-night or to-morrow. I would hope with -all my heart for to-night if I were sure of Aylwin getting -here in time; for every day means more risk of their -suspecting us, especially if they are in league with any -of the people on shore. The Irish peasants are very -quick to suspect a stranger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I hope it’s to-night!” Norah cried. “But, -Sir John, supposing we can—I mean, you and the -boys can——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit of it—it’s certainly ‘we,’ ” said O’Neill, -laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, supposing we can cut off the men who come -ashore. What will the submarine do? We can’t -touch her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s where Aylwin comes in, of course,” O’Neill -said. “If we can cut off the shore party and keep -them from rejoining the submarine, I don’t think she -can get away. She would not have much fuel, for -one thing; and for another, she does not carry enough -men to spare those we may have the luck to bag. She -would probably submerge; but she can’t remain -below more than twenty-four hours; and then the -destroyer would get her easily. Of course, there is a -lot of supposition about it all. I am calculating by -the little I know of submarines, but the Germans may -have a later and more powerful pattern that I don’t -understand, with a larger crew. We can only do our -best. It ought to be a good fight, anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A knock came, and Jim opened the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The misthress is afther sending me up to say the -dinner’ll be spoilt on ye,” said a patient voice. -“Them little chickens do be boiled to rags; ’tis that -tender they are they’d fall asunder if you did but -prod them with your finger!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll hurry, Mary,” said Jim. “Come on, you -people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dinner!” said Norah. “Oh, I don’t believe I -could eat any.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you could,” said Wally, appearing suddenly. -“Little girls who won’t eat dinner can’t light bonfires!” -He tucked her hand into his arm and raced -her down the staircase. At the foot, he stopped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Norah, I’m sorry,” he said. “Is it all right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course it’s all right,” said Norah. “But you -were never cross with me before, in all your life, and -don’t you do it again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never got you mixed up in a war before!” said -Wally soberly. “Don’t you do it again, either!”</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch15'>CHAPTER XV<br/> <span class='sub-head'>PLANS OF CAMPAIGN</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“They are fighting in the heavens: they’re at war beneath the sea—</p> -<p class='line0'>Ay, their ways are mighty different from the ways o’ you an’ me!”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Dudley Clark.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>D</span>INNER at the Carrignarone Hotel, where the -Australians and Sir John were the only guests, -was apt to be a lengthy and hilarious affair, with -everybody very hungry and very merry, and with -jokes flying, much to the disorganization of the waitress, -who was wont to spend much of her time in -clapping her hand over her mouth and rushing from -the room. When the necessities of the meal forbade -these hasty retreats, the waitress was apt to explode -in short, sharp gasps, greatly endangering whatever -dish she happened to be handing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This evening, however, the younger members of -the party were inclined to be unusually silent. Mr. -Linton’s vacant seat was in itself depressing; and -since it was impossible to talk of the subject seething -in their minds, conversation of any kind was not easy. -But John O’Neill was like a child; and before long -they all fell under the spell of his merriment. Never -had they seen him in such a happy mood. Every line -was smoothed from his worn face, and his eyes danced -with an eager joy that was almost uncanny. All his -being seemed transformed in the complete contentment -that had possession of him. Deliberately he set -himself to make the others laugh; and succeeded so -well that they astonished themselves by making an -extremely good dinner and feeling, at its conclusion, -considerably reinforced for the work that lay before -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill led the way out to the little landing-stage -near the inn, where the fishing-boats were anchored, -their brown nets drying on rough fences on the beach. -They sat down on some upturned fish-boxes, looking -westward across the water, where the sun was preparing -to set in a glory of golden cloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now I’m going to be sensible,” Sir John said. -“I’ve been thinking out a plan of campaign, and I -want your views.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He brought out from his pocket a plan of the inlet, -drawn by Jim—a companion to the one Mr. Linton -had carried to Captain Aylwin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have ‘Flat Rock’ marked here over the cave,” -he said. “Is that the rock you were sitting on when -Wally dropped his knife?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that’s the one,” Jim answered. “It has a -cleft in it through which the knife went down—just -wide enough to admit the knife. It’s really a kind of -lid over the rocks that form the first cave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you said there were loose boulders lying -on it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes; big fragments of rock. I should think -that a big chunk of the cliff must have fallen on it -once, probably splitting it and making the crack, and -breaking itself as well. A lot of it went down: the -biggest piece buried itself partly in the sand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the boulder that almost hides the entrance, -then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim nodded assent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s about three feet from the entrance and a good -deal wider than it,” he said. “There are so many -similar rocks lying about that it would be quite easy -to miss the cave altogether.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I take it that the top of the flat rock is above -high-water mark?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” Jim answered. “High-water mark is -about a foot over the top of the entrance, and the rock -is quite four feet higher than that. Otherwise I don’t -fancy the waves would have left those big pieces of -loose rock lying on it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I wanted to know. Now listen. -Suppose the Germans land, and most of them disappear -into the caves, to fish for petrol. What is to hinder -two active people, armed with levers, from sending -down from the top of the rock enough boulders to block -the entrance?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim started, his pipe falling from his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By—Jove!” he uttered. “What a ripping -idea!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, we could do it as easily as possible,” Wally -said, excitedly. “The rocks are quite close to the -edge: one of them is so loose that we were rocking it -this afternoon. We’ve pretty hefty muscles—we -could send half a dozen over in no time with a couple -of iron bars. Glory, O’Neill, you <span class='it'>have</span> a head!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Jim, his eyes dancing—“and they -could hardly miss the entrance, because the big boulder -in front would prevent their rolling out too far. What -chumps we were, not to think of it, Wal!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you’d have the Germans like rats in a trap—and -with no shooting at all!” Norah cried, delightedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something like that: with luck,” said O’Neill. -“Of course, they would have a guard posted outside, -and another at the boat. But the main crowd would -be inside, I should think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s really rather a staggering notion, it’s so -simple,” Jim said. “And I don’t see how it can go -wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It certainly simplifies our plan of action,” O’Neill -remarked. “And it doesn’t beat us, even if it fails; -you would have to jump down among the boulders, -in that case, and do the best you could with your -revolvers as the people inside came out—which they -would do in a hurry. My own little game must be the -boat and the guard at it. It’s rather important that -it should not be allowed to get back; a submarine -without a collapsible is rather like a horse with a lame -leg.” He turned his face towards the sunset, its -expression of child-like happiness stronger than ever. -“Wow! isn’t it going to be a jewel of a fight!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you the Berserk!” he said. “But I don’t -much like being separated. You’ll be careful, O’Neill, -won’t you, and keep well behind cover? There are -plenty of boulders near where they must land.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!” Sir John answered. “For once in my -life I have a job that matters, and I’m certainly not -going to risk carrying it out by getting shot unnecessarily. -They won’t leave a strong guard at the boat: -a submarine crew is too limited to use many men, and -then, so far as we know, they feel perfectly safe, and -have no reason to take extra precautions. Speed will -be their main idea; they must make the most of the -short time between low-water and daylight.” He -swung round towards Norah, smiling at her. “How -are you feeling, mate?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m feeling very cheerful,” said Norah, whose face -bore out her words. “There isn’t nearly so much -danger for the boys on top of the rock, is there, Sir -John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not; if they can block the entrance from -above they may not even have to use their revolvers—which -will be a sad blow to them,” O’Neill answered. -“I’m always against promiscuous shooting, especially -when there are ladies present—even to satisfy fire-eaters -like Wally and Jim!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sir John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be as right as possible,” he assured her, laughing -at her anxious face. “All I have to do is to sit comfortably -behind my little rock and pot at fat Germans; -and when you hear me potting, you can light the -beacon and crawl away with discreet haste. I hope -you realize that we couldn’t carry out this plan at all -if we hadn’t you as fire-lighter: we couldn’t do without -a fourth hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad,” Norah said, happily. “When do we -start, Sir John?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll slip out about half-past nine,” he answered. -“You and I will stroll along in one direction, and the -boys in another, and we can meet near the northern -headland where we must have the beacon. Each of -us must carry a bottle of petrol—I’ll see to getting -them ready; and as we go we can pick up stray bits -of wood. There is driftwood everywhere on the beach, -and we can collect plenty beyond the inlet: I don’t -want to go there, nor do I want to show up on the -north headland while there is much light. We don’t -know where the Germans you saw this evening may -be hiding—though I would think, judging from the -direction in which they were going, that their boat -must be hidden in a tiny bay that lies south of the -inlet. Still, it doesn’t do to risk things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose,” said Wally, “those fellows with the -boat will stay wherever they are hiding until nearly -low-water; then they’ll pull round to the inlet, and -the submarine will bob up, and they’ll take the other -men on board and go ashore after the petrol.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the most likely thing,” O’Neill said. “We -must be in position long before that. A good thing -it’s a warm night: still, we shall have to lie still for a -good while, and you’d better dress warmly, all of -you.” He looked at his watch. “Nine o’clock, and -time we began to get ready. There are crowbars in -the old shed Con used as a garage, boys; I noticed them -this morning. I’m going after bottles for the petrol.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood up, looking at the three young faces. -They were all eager; but it was as though a living -light glowed in his own dark eyes. He held his gallant -head high, the twisted body forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d like to say ‘Thank you,’ only I don’t know -how,” he said. “If you hadn’t come, this wouldn’t -have happened; and now, whatever comes, I’ll always -have it to remember that just once in my life I had a -chance of a man’s job.” His light stride carried him -quickly across the beach.</p> - -<div><h1 id='ch16'>CHAPTER XVI<br/> <span class='sub-head'>THE FIGHT IN THE DAWN</span></h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<div class='stanza-inner'> -<p class='line0'>“The fighting man shall from the sun</p> -<p class='line0'>  Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;</p> -<p class='line0'>Speed with the light-foot winds to run.</p> -<p class='line0'>  And with the trees to newer birth;</p> -<p class='line0'>And find, when fighting shall be done,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Great rest, and fulness after dearth.”</p> -<p class='line0' style='text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='sc'>Julian Grenfell.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'><span class='dropcap'>I</span>N the little inlet, shadowed by the high rocks, -everything was very quiet. The tide was running -out rapidly: foot by foot the smooth boulders came -out of the sea, to stand like sentinels until once more -the heaving green water should swing back and climb -gently until it rippled over their heads. Inch by -inch the opening grew, forming the entrance to the -cave under the rocks, and the water slid out as though -rejoicing to escape from its dark prison within and to -seek the laughing freedom of the sea that tumbled -beyond the headlands. Overhead a half-moon sailed, -now and then blotted out by drifting clouds; and in -the East was the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn. -But the water of the little bay lay black and formless, -and though the sands showed, visible and pale, the -shadows that lay about the great boulders were like -pools of ink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the flat rock over the cave Jim and Wally -crouched, now and then moving cautiously to keep -their tired limbs from stiffening. It was very cold, -in the silent hour before dawn. Two hours earlier -they had climbed down from above, making use of -the scant moonlight or clinging like limpets to the cliff -when the clouds blotted out the moon’s faint radiance: -glad to arrive at their destination with nothing worse -than bruises and torn clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once on the rock, they had set about their preparations: -crawling all over it, making sure of knowing -every inch in the dark, and becoming acquainted -with each boulder that lay upon its surface. They -tested them with their crowbars in the darkness, and -found it possible to move all but two or three. The -great fragment that balanced near the edge they -levered nearer still, so that only a little effort would -be needed to send it crashing down; and then they -moved others near it, working with caution that was -almost painful, lest even a scratch of rock on rock -should carry a warning across the dark water. Below -them, the waves had at first rippled and splashed -against the crags; but gradually they receded, and -leaning over, lying flat on the stone, they could make -out the position of the great boulder that marked the -entrance to the cave, and so make sure that their -balanced rock was in the right place. Then there was -nothing to do but wait.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How the minutes dragged! Far up on the northern -headland, Norah crouched among sparse furze and -heather, unheeding the prickly branches that forbade -comfort. The edge of the low cliff prevented her -seeing the inlet; she could only watch the dim outline -of the coast, stretching northward, and the stormy sky -with its hurrying clouds. Before her loomed dimly -the heap of petrol-soaked wood and furze which they -had roughly piled in the darkness behind a boulder -that hid it from watching eyes, should any be on the -alert. She had expected to be afraid when at last -they had all shaken hands with her and wished her luck -before creeping away to their posts; but now she -found that she had no sense of fear. Jim had stayed -behind for a moment and kissed her, calling her “old -kiddie” in the way she loved. In the agony of wondering -if she would ever hear his voice again there was -no room for fear for herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>John O’Neill had had longer to wait before climbing -down to the beach. He had lain on the edge of the -high ground, motionless, taking advantage of every -moonlit moment to learn by heart the scene below as -the tide crawled backward. Jim’s plan was fresh in -his memory: now he stared at each boulder, studying -opportunities for cover and making out the path that -the Germans must take to the cave. He knew where -it was, though he could not see it: it relieved him, too, -that he was unable to discern Jim and Wally, or to -hear the faintest sound of their presence, although he -knew they must be on the rock. Finally, he made his -cautious way to the beach, and followed the tide out -yard by yard, creeping from one shadow to another: -a shadow himself, white-faced and frail, among the -rugged boulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was very cold, on the wet sand; he shivered, and -his teeth chattered. He fell to rubbing himself -steadily, chafing his wrists and ankles; but it seemed -as though the long watch would never end. Once, -when the clouds suddenly blew apart and the moon -shone more brightly, he fancied he saw a dim shape -outside the headlands: a shape that might have been -a ship. But before he had time to be certain the dark -masses overhead drifted together once more, leaving -him in doubt as to whether it had not been his imagination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shadow of dawn came in the east, and O’Neill -felt his heart sink. They were not coming, after all: -soon it would be daylight and the tide would turn and -come creeping back to hide the cave for another twelve -hours. For a moment the keenness of disappointment -made him shiver, suddenly colder than he had ever -been; and then his heart thumped and the blood seemed -to rush through his veins. Something, long, and -grey, and very faint was showing on the water. It -was not a dream: he heard a faint plash that he knew -was an oar, muffled yet distinct in the deep stillness: -and then a low mutter of a voice, coming across the -sea to him. He drew a long, satisfied breath, and -felt a hatchet that hung at his belt, as he had felt it a -hundred times, to make sure that it hung where he -could draw it easily. Then his hand closed on the -revolver in his coat-pocket and clung to it almost -lovingly. For the first time in his life it did not matter -in the least that he was a hunchback.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The low sound of oars came nearer, and gradually, -out of the darkness, a boat loomed upon the water and -grounded softly on the strand. They were not half a -dozen yards from where O’Neill crouched in a patch -of black shadow, watching between two rocks. The -men in her stepped out, quietly, but showing no sense -of danger. They were more in number than he had -expected; there would be a stiff fight if Jim and -Wally failed to trap them. He crouched lower, scarcely -daring to breathe. Then one who was evidently in -command gave a low curt order and they filed off along -the winding path between the strewn boulders, leaving -two of their number in the boat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rocks hid the main body for a moment. The -guards worked the boat round until her bow pointed -outwards in readiness for the run back to the submarine; -then they came out, stamping on the sand -to keep warm. One of them, a thick-set fellow in -oilskins, strode inland a few yards, pausing so close -to O’Neill that the Irishman could have touched him, -and for a sick instant he thought he was discovered; -but the sailor strolled back to his companion with a -muttered curse at the cold, and they stood by the -boat, talking in low tones. O’Neill searched the rocks -with his eyes, straining to see the entrance to the cave. -Surely it was time for them to have reached it. Would -the sound he longed for never come?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then came a long reverberating crash, and another, -and yet another and a long, terrible cry, and above it a -shrill whistle. The men on the beach swung round, -breaking into a torrent of bewildered furious speech. -On the northern headland came a flicker of light that -spread upwards and soared in a sheet of flame; and -simultaneously Sir John fired at the man nearest him -and saw him pitch into the water on his face. The -second man rushed at him as he rose from behind the -rock, and he fired again, and missed; and the German -Was upon him, towering over the slight, misshapen -form, and firing as he came. O’Neill felt a sharp agony -in his side. The two revolvers rang out together, and -the German staggered and fell bodily upon him, crushing -him to the sand, while his revolver flew from his -hand, splashing into a pool in a rock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Irishman twisted himself from under the inert -weight, and struggled to his feet. A German was -rushing towards the boat, threading his way among -the rocks, his face desperate in its bewilderment and -rage. The sight gave strength to John O’Neill anew; -he ran to the boat, staggering as he ran, and pulling -at his hatchet. There were dark stains on it as he -grasped it. The German saw his intention and -shouted furiously, and shots began to whistle past -O’Neill. There was no time to look: he flung himself -into the boat, hacking wildly at the bottom, smiling -as it split under his blows and he felt the cold inrush -of the water round his feet. The German was upon -him: just once he glanced aside from his work and -saw the cruel face and the levelled revolver very close, -somewhere it seemed that Jim and Wally were shouting. -He smiled again, turning for a final blow at the boat. -Then sea and rock and sky seemed to burst round -him, with a deafening roar, in a blaze of white light -that turned the grey dawn into a path of glory.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='pindent'>He woke from a dreamless sleep. They were all -about him: kind faces that loved him, that bent over -him speaking gently. Some one had propped his -head, and had spread coats over him: he was glad of -it, for he was very cold. The wavering faces steadied -as his vision grew clearer, and he saw them all: David -Linton and the boys, and Norah kneeling by him, her -eyes full of tears. That troubled him, and he groped -for her hand, and held it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mustn’t cry,” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some one raised his head a little, putting a flask to -his lips. He drank eagerly. Then he saw another face -he knew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, Aylwin!” he said. “Did you get her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sailor nodded. “Don’t talk, old man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill laughed outright. The brandy had brought -life back to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m perfectly well,” he said. “Tell me, Jim—quick!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We got them quite easily,” Jim said, his voice -shaking. “The first rock blocked the entrance, and -they’re there yet. We sent down all the rocks, and -one fell on one of the two guards they left; the other -managed to wing Wally before he ran.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill started.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is he hurt?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only my arm,” said Wally. “It’s quite all right—don’t -you worry. It wasn’t much to pay for the haul -we got—thanks to you.” The boyish face twitched, -and he put out his hand and took O’Neill’s in its -grip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on, please,” Sir John begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The other chap ran,” Jim said: “of course his -idea was to get the boat back to the submarine. The -brute got a start of us while we were making sure the -others were blocked in securely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you put a guard there?” O’Neill interrupted, -anxiously. “They might break out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Half a dozen of my men,” Aylwin said, quickly. -“It’s all right, old chap.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We saw him begin to fire at you, and we did our -best,” said Jim, with a groan. “We didn’t dare fire, -for fear of hitting you, until we were close. Then we -got him—but——” His strained voice ceased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t worry—his mate had fixed me first,” -said O’Neill, serenely. “It was great luck I had, to be -able to get to the boat at all: your man didn’t matter.” -He laughed happily. “This makes up for having lived. -Tell me your part of it, Bob.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We got down in very good time,” Aylwin said. -“The ship couldn’t come in, of course; but I’ve a -handy motor-boat with a gun rigged in her, and we -sneaked in and lay just under the south headland. It -was quite simple; we were into the inlet before the -first flare died down, and there was the submarine, with -nothing doing. It was as easy as shelling peas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then it was your gun . . . ?” O’Neill said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. We’re on guard, of course; but she won’t -come up again. When it’s light we’ll deal with the -gentlemen in the cave.” The sailor’s curt voice became -even more abrupt. “Never saw a show better -planned—the whole thing went like clockwork. I -always knew you had the makings of a general in you, -Jack!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>O’Neill gave a quick, happy sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The boys and Norah did it all,” he said. “But -it was splendid fun, to be able to take a hand. I said -it would be a jewel of a fight!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A slow wave of weakness stole over him, and he -closed his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the tide coming in?” he said, presently. “I -thought I felt it—creeping.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jim took off his coat and put it on his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll get you up to the motor presently,” he said, -his young voice unsteady. O’Neill laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not before the finish,” he said. “It won’t be -long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Norah’s head went down suddenly on his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t die!” she said,—“we can’t spare you, -dear Sir John. We’re going to make you better!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dying is only a very little matter, dear little -mate,” O’Neill said. “It’s living that hurts. And -just think of what I have—a man’s finish! That is a -great thing, when one has lived a hunchback.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not speak for a long time, lying with closed -eyes. The dawn was breaking: light grew on the -surface of the inlet, where long streaks of oil floated -on the ripples. They watched the quiet figure. Under -the coats that covered him, all traces of deformity were -lost. Something of new beauty had crept into the -high-bred features; and when he opened his eyes again -they were like the smiling eyes of a child. They met -Jim’s, and the lips smiled too, while his weak hand -rested on Norah’s head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I worrying,” he said, “because I was out of -the war.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had your own job,” said Aylwin. “And you -pulled it off, old man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was great luck,” O’Neill said. “God had pity. -Enormous luck . . . to finish at a man’s job.” He -did not speak again. The sun, climbing upwards, shone -tenderly upon the happy face.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/illo252.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“The German saw his intention and shouted furiously, and shots began to whistle past O’Neill.”</p> -</div> - -<table id='tab9' summary='' class='center' style='font-size:.8em;'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab9c1 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>Jim and Wally</span>]</td><td class='tab9c2 tdStyle1'>[<span class='it'>Page</span> 253</td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:2em;'><span class='sc'>The End.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:.7em;'>Butler & Tanner, Frome and London.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad1.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad2.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0010' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad3.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0011' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad4.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0012' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad5.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0013' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad6.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0014' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad7.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0015' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad8.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0016' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad9.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0017' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad10.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0018' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad11.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0019' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad12.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0020' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad13.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0021' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad14.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0022' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad15.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0023' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/ad16.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0024' style='width:80%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:4em;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:1.2em;'>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. -Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been -employed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious -printer errors occur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some illustrations were moved to facilitate page layout.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jim and Wally, by Mary Grant Bruce - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JIM AND WALLY *** - -***** This file should be named 60445-h.htm or 60445-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/4/60445/ - -Produced by Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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