They were not long in suspense, as Mrs. Timmins, after closing the interview with her husband, gathered resolution 37to grasp the seemingly inanimate body by the arm, and to drag it away from the entrance. McKenna and his friend then went into the place—used as kitchen, washing, and dining-room, in accordance with the prevailing custom of the locality. Anthony Timmins at once seized upon the pewter candlestick, held the flame of the taper close to the face of the supposed dead man, almost scorching the eyebrows in his eagerness to discover who it might be; then, breaking out into loud laughter, he returned the light to Mrs. Timmins, raised his two hands above his head, slightly bending his knees as if about to sit down on the floor, his hat falling off sidewise meantime, and fairly shouted, between the rapidly following explosions of uncontrollable mirth which had quickly taken the place of his former anger:
"By the hill o' Howth! An' its only poor ould man Fox, of the wee patch beyant the mountains, as harmless as a suckin' dove, but, to his own sorrow, a great drunkard! He's now what wan might call down, dead insensible wid the poteen he has taken."
And Timmins could scarcely postpone more laughter long enough to introduce his companion to Mrs. Timmins, after which brief ceremony he said:
"No wonder on earth that we couldn't open the door, wid all this lump of fat an' iniquity braced forninst it! He weighs two hundred poun' 'f wan ounce; an' besides, the heel of his shoe wor caught in the crack under the door—which by the same token is wider nor will be comfortable next month—holdin' it like a wedge, nate and tight against us!"
"Oh, what a dawshy clodhopper I must have been," said Mrs. Timmins, in an excellent brogue, "to be scared at ould man Fox! He's his own worst inimy, is Paddy Fox, an' he came here unbeknownst to me—as to who he wor, at laste—just as it grow'd dark, an' before I had lighted the candle, an' he stumbled into the kitchen, an' I didn't know him from 38the deil's own grandfather; an' I jist ran into the bedroom, the childer wid me, an' fastened the door, expectin' every minute he'd rouse up an' begin to rob the house! I supposed he wor a tramp, for all the wurruld, an' I didn't dare make a noise, or strike a light, for fear we'd be murthered outright! An' how glad I wor when I heard your steps on the gravel outside!"
So the fright about a dead man barring the door was not much of a scare after all. At least, there was very small cause for disturbance, as a drunken person was not such an extraordinary thing to see in that house. Fox was allowed to remain where he was, Timmins having thrown an old quilt over him to keep him warm, saying that he would "be all right by the mornin'!"
Mrs. Timmins, good woman that she was, rekindled a fire and prepared an excellent supper for the stranger, consisting of bacon and eggs, and baked potatoes with strong coffee, to which McKenna helped himself with unwonted relish. After satisfying his appetite, he and Timmins played a couple of games of euchre, took a few drinks from a keg kept in one corner, supported on a couple of sticks, and which was under the exclusive control of Mrs. Timmins—she sold the liquor to her customers from a tin cup—then the wet, weary, and sleepy traveler retired to his bed quite in the dark, in a room in the second story of the building, first having thrown his damp clothes down the staircase to Mr. Timmins, with a request that they be allowed to dry before the kitchen fire.
Anthony Timmins and his wife kept what was known as a railrboarding-house or tavern, for the accommodation of laborers employed on the adjacent tunnel, and a fair living, and something smart beside, did they realize from their trouble and toil, Mrs. Timmins being not at all assisted by the three tow-headed children which followed close to her heels wherever she went, and called her "mother."
The slumbers of the detective were sound and unbroken 39until the hour that the sunlight of another day fell full on his face and disturbed, and finally awakened him. Looking about, he discovered there were three beds in the low room—one, by way of compliment, devoted to his own particular use, while each of the others held two men, of whose presence the previous night he had been entirely ignorant. Waiting until his room-mates had gone out, McKenna went to the door and shouted to Timmins for his garments, which were soon brought up by that personage, wishing him at the same time "the top o' the mornin', an' many happy returns of the same!" The clothing was warm and dry, and the officer felt greatly refreshed by his season of repose. At the breakfast-table he learned, not greatly to his surprise, that the company he had to keep was none of the most select; still it was as good as he had reason to anticipate under the circumstances. In fact, he thought if he should secure, for the future, equally decent associates, he might consider himself fortunate. The men about him asked no questions, but devoured their meal almost in silence, and then set out for their work on the tunnel.
The long table of unplaned boards—covered with a coarse oil-cloth, which had once been of a variegated mahogany color, but had faded with much rubbing and use to a dark dirt hue—was flanked on either side by equally rough wooden benches of the same length, on which the boarders sat when they partook of their food. There were no chairs in that house; those too proud to occupy the benches while at dinner could stand up and welcome. Furnishing the table were brtin plates, common horn-handled iron knives and forks, which the landlady had not for months found time to give the polishing rub of "brick-dust and a split potato;" pewter table and tea spoons; a can for vinegar; salt-cellar, and pepper-box of japanned tinware; pint cups, also of tin, for the coffee; a quart measure for the milk; another for molasses—sugar was not permitted on that table. There 40was fresh bread in plenty, and meat and vegetables, especially white, mealy potatoes, cooked to a turn, with their jackets on, in absolute profusion. Butter appeared in bountiful supply, but it was too vigorous, some of the boarders said, for any other use than to harness to a carriage to draw grist to mill. In other words, its flavor was rank and taste abominable. McKenna felt that such food was not good for him the moment he entered for his breakfast, and, using everything beside that was nourishing, he quietly gave the butter a deservedly wide berth.
After the morning meal, and having given some attention to his boots, which were drawn on with difficulty—first having to soak them well with melted tallow—McKenna took a short stroll to the railway work, where he had a talk with the boss, and with some of the hands who were fellow-boarders. He gleaned from the former that employment for him, just then and there, must be counted as out of the question. Labor was to be done, but the price was low, while workingmen were more plentiful than whortleberries on the mountain. There were too many German miners and laborers in the vicinity for the prosperity of the Mollie Maguires, he could easily see, without asking. After making a few other calls, the traveler returned to Timmins', where, in his triple-bedded apartment, he managed to indite a hurried report to Mr. Franklin, informing him of his whereabouts and movements. This he succeeded in depositing in the post-office. The address upon the envelope was such as to disarm and thwart suspicion. It had been prepared for his use before leaving Philadelphia.
In the afternoon rain fell heavily, and therefore no work could be done outside the tunnel excavation; even inside it was wet and uncomfortable, and many of the men remained at home, some drinking, others dancing and singing, and still others whiling away the time playing various games at cards. Among these laborers were several members of the 41Miners' and Laborers' Union, but they were all reticent, after concurring in the generally expressed opinion that mining and railrng were dull and money very scarce everywhere in those regions.
The ensuing day the agent settled his bill at Timmins' tavern, and, as the weather had cleared up finely during the night, bid adieu to the landlord, his wife and family, and started for Schuylkillhaven. Arrived there, he found many men at work, but no possible chance for him to earn a dollar. The operations carried on were mostly for the railr He encountered a few miners just from the collieries above, and they gave the visitor nothing in the way of hopefulness as to the condition of affairs where they had been. Laborers could hardly find engagements anywhere. And as for his especial subject of pursuit and object of inquiry, the element predominating was still German; hence, there was very little to detain him in the neighborhood.
The next point attended to was Auburn, about five miles from Port Clinton, a small country place, boasting a couple of planing-mills and a number of business houses. Here nothing transpired of importance, and McKenna toiled back on foot over the mountain, toward the hour of sunset, to Schuylkillhaven, where he had deposited his baggage.
A day later the stranger went to Tremont, and thence to Sweet Arrow. Returning to the first-mentioned place about the middle of the afternoon, he formed the acquaintance of a number of his countrymen; but they had no hints to volunteer—and he was very far from asking any foolish questions in this connection—showing that they were even aware of the existence of such an organization as the Mollie Maguires.
A day later McKenna encountered Nicholas Brennan, a coal-miner from the vicinity of Mt. Pleasant, near Minersville. Brennan gave out that he was also a traveler, engaged in going from one place to another for the purpose of securing work at his calling for the winter. Their pursuits being 42ostensibly similar, McKenna and Brennan soon struck up an intimacy. After the latter had more than once tasted liquor at McKenna's expense, he thawed out considerably, became pliable and talkative, and soon had much to remark about "the power that made English landlords quake." But he gave it as his opinion that such a force could accomplish very little, if anything, in the anthracite country of Pennsylvania, and pretended to believe the Miners' and Laborers' Union, which had recently been formed, would prove of no benefit to working-men. Brennan prided himself upon his discerning shrewdness, and said, early in his conversation with the operative, he knew, at once, upon first fixing his eye on him, that he, McKenna, was a boatman, or canal hand, the correctness of which allegation, for his own purposes, that gentleman felt constrained to acknowledge. Brennan recommended his new-found associate to go to Tamaqua, or Mahanoy City, where he thought mining was moving more briskly than in any other portion of the State—especially was it more lively than in the neighborhood of Pottsville. He concluded his lengthy harangue by remarking, in a significant way—referring to the localities named:
"There's the ground where the boys are true!"
"Then they are the very places I want to get work in," responded McKenna, and, watching the countenance of Brennan, he was sure he discovered in it an expression of disappointment, as though the reply made to "the ground where the boys were true" was not exactly the one he had anticipated receiving. Pretending, however, not to notice it, the detective proposed a game at cards, "jist for the fun of the thing," and, after that ended, Brennan was so much under the influence of spirits, his companion was forced to cut loose from him. Nothing more could be elicited, but McKenna was well satisfied that, if not a simon-pure Mollie Maguire, his late opponent in euchre knew more about the society than he cared to impart to a stranger. He made 43mental note of the words: "There's the ground where the boys are true!" and could not help thinking they were in some way connected with the mysterious order. Brennan was kind enough to give him the names of some of his friends in the mines; these he also treasured in his memory, to be made use of as occasion presented.
The next day Brennan was perfectly sober, and, it being the first of November and a Catholic holiday, he accompanied McKenna to church, and, after service, introduced him to everybody he knew as "a young man from Colorado, in quest of work," the stranger soon becoming quite popular with a certain class. In the afternoon all adjourned to a convenient saloon, where McKenna kept up a continuous round of amusements for several hours, relating wonderful stories of his adventures in the United States Navy during the late war, all drawn from his own fertile fancy, but certainly very interesting to his listeners, and by singing, in good style, some genuine Irish melodies. Brennan and his companions started, the same afternoon, for Pottsville, only three miles distant, and urged McKenna to accompany them. He excused himself, on the score of being compelled to await money, due him for work, which had been promised by post at that place, and the young fellows reluctantly departed without him.
Sunday, the second of November, passed without the occurrence of any incident worthy of note. On the succeeding Monday our detective rode by rail twenty-four miles, stopping at Pine Grove, where he found the shafts still some seven miles distant, over a rough and hilly path, and did not visit them. Small was the loss by this, however, as no work was being prosecuted, and the employés were scattering to various localities until such time as operations should be again commenced. After an examination of the tanneries there, with a few small machine-shops, without learning anything of value, he returned to Tremont, at which place he met a 44man named John Delaney, a miner, who was seemingly on a regular lark, disbursing his money lavishly, and imbibing drinks industriously. Delaney was of Brennan's opinion, thinking work would be difficult to obtain in the mines, so few were being operated, and railed loudly against the Philadelphia and Reading Coal and Iron Company, charging all the existing troubles to that corporation. He boasted that they—the miners—once kept the Company and their mines idle for eight long months, and could do so again if gd to it. He was equally severe in his denunciations of German, Welsh and English miners, and their "butties," alleging that they—especially the Germans—had everything their own way about the vicinity of Tremont, but it was different in Shenandoah, Tamaqua, and other towns. Delaney was anxious to introduce McKenna to all of his personal friends, and, in that regard, was allowed to have his way, the detective properly considering it well that he should know as many men of the right character as possible. They might be useful as references at other localities. He therefore expressed his hearty thanks to Delaney for his exertions in this direction. The following day, having eschewed liquor for a season, Delaney went with his new-discovered friend to Donaldson, where he made him acquainted with the outside boss of the mines, going even as far as to ask for work for the "young man," who, he said, "was jist stharvin' for somewhat to lay his honest, hard-workin' hands to!" The boss could do nothing, however; and, after examining the slopes and walking through some of the gangways, talking with a miner here and there, they revisited the upper air. Again it was discovered the Germans held the ascendency in numbers and power, and managed to keep it; hence, there was no opportunity for securing employment. He must seek elsewhere for a body of the Mollie Maguires—the Donaldson mines were not their abiding-place.
The next point on the list for examination was Middle 45Creek, two miles distant, over the mountain, from Tremont, where the men were equally unlucky, finding no work. A walk back, through rough r, over brambles and stones, and dodging laurel and alder bushes, gave the pedestrians appetites for their suppers when they reached Tremont. Delaney here separated from McKenna, after a few farewell glasses, and started for Pottsville, at which place he said he was due, and had friends and relatives.
During the succeeding Wednesday the detective remained in Tremont, and, after dinner, enjoyed a walk on the railway track, the weather being fine, continuing an intimacy previously begun between himself and the switch-tender, an aged Emerald Islander, who was found sitting nigh the entrance to his little box, or cabin—short, stumpy, gray-haired, brown-faced, roughly clad, but honest and sturdy-looking withal—smoking his pipe contentedly, and receiving pleasurably the cool breeze sweeping up the valley. Mike Fitzgibbons, the switchman, was a genuine specimen of the hard-working, steady, reliable Irish peasantry, and he was never known to neglect a duty.
"An' how is business wid ye the day?" asked McKenna, as he came up to the old man's station, preparing his tobacco meantime, and signaling by a significant motion, easily understood by smokers, for a light for his cutty-pipe, which was old and black, as well as fashionably short in the stem. The switchman tendered his doodeen, which, having been employed, the stranger returned to its owner, with thanks.
"Arrah! an' about all days are the same to the likes o' me! I am to the fore all the time when I'm not slapin' an' atin' wid Betty and the childer. I jist mind the trains, to prevint misadventure. Sure, the Company gives me fair wages, promptly paid, for that same!"
"Thrue for ye," answered McKenna; "an' hev ye any objection to me takin' a seat by ye, on the settle forninst the wall, while I have a puff at me pipe?"
46"Not the laste in the worruld!" responded Fitzgibbons, making space for the stranger on the bench. After resting and drawing away industriously at his pipe for a few moments, McKenna remembered a Philadelphia Inquirer which he had obtained that forenoon and not yet examined, and, taking it from his pocket, commenced reading. He knew this would excite his companion's curiosity. Soon Fitzgibbons remarked:
"Would ye be plazed to rade to me a bit? Me eyes are none of the best, an' the little I has I save fur the good of the Company. What do the paper say about the State elections?"
"I'll rade to ye wid pleasure," said the agent, and he proceeded to give all that he found of interest. After commenting at some length upon the contents of the sheet, and having his pipe freshly filled with McKenna's fragrant tobacco, the switchman was more chatty. In a little while he entered his box, and returned bearing in his hand a copy of the well-known Boston Pilot, which he proffered to his comrade. After skimming hastily over the Irish news and some telegraphic intelligence, he came to an article headed, "The Mobocrats of Pennsylvania." This he read carefully aloud to the old man. It was a scathing blow at the Mollie Maguires, giving them deserved condemnation, and appeared in the shape of correspondence. After finishing it, McKenna asked:
"What is this all about?"
Evidently much excited, Fitzgibbons answered:
"But isn't it a sarching piece, though? It slathers them butcherin' vagabones widout mercy! O, I would like to know who has writ it!"
McKenna kept down his anxiety to learn more, and said nothing, when the switchman continued:
"Ye have heard of the society? Av coorse ye have! An' now they've got across the big say, till America, an' into 47the mines! But doesn't that article cut them deep, tho'? It has created quite a ruction here—and no wonder! It was a great thing, the getting up of that piece! It do lay on the lash to the backs of the Mollie Maguires in splendid style!"
The old man was evidently an opponent of the order, or he was endeavoring to draw out the opinion of his friend. McKenna determined to let him know what he was supposed to think, but which was the very opposite of his real convictions.
"It must be that such writin's will damage the interests of the Irish people in the coal regions. Don't you agree wid me in this?"
Fitzgibbons was touched at a tender spot and flared up in an instant, moving involuntarily further from the operative, his dark but expressive face ablaze with honest indignation, saying vehemently:
"No! I disagrees wid ye in that altogether! It is the Mollie Maguires that's doin' the wrong! Such articles in the Pilot will have a good effect, an' do somethin'—of which there's pressin' want—toward breakin' up the clan! God knows it nades dispersin' an' punishin' too! Such bodies is a burnin' shame an' disgrace to the men in them, an' they befoul all Irishmen and all good Catholics! Ye naden't be surprised if ye mate them yoursel'! They've had 'em here, even, where there live so few from our country! But Father McLaughlin druv 'em out wid the hardest words ye iver heard from the lips of a clergyman! God prosper him for that same! An' since they left, we've had pace an' quiet in town, wid no killin's and batin's."
It would not do for the listener to permit such an opportunity to say a word in favor of his particular friends, the Mollie Maguires, to pass unimproved. While the sentiments expressed were his own, to the letter, he must dissemble and oppose them. Therefore he replied:
48"Now, fur the life of me, I can't see why Irish Catholics cannot have a dacent, paceable society of their own—if there be the laste touch of sacracy about it—widout the papers an' the clergy interloguing and opposing! Wur any harm done by the Masons and Odd Fellows, shure there wouldn't be a word in the public press about it. An' what's the raison that this society should be abused?"
"You are all wrong! My experience goes agin' the order! I knows some men who hev bin members, but they come out of it. They saw enough! By my sowl, I'd as soon go colloguing wid the devil, hoof, horns, tail and all, as wid the murtherin' rascals! Harken to this, now! If any wan of the crew wur discharged from work an' wanted fur to sake revinge—which the same is swate the worruld over—he jist went to the headquarters of the society, or to the president, or whativer they call him, which is the head official, an' made out that it wur from religious differences he lost his place, or because he wur an Irishman; and then lots ud be cast, sure, an' two or more of the brothers—bad cess to such a brotherhood!—must go, whether they would or no, an' jist shoot down the boss that had cut him off! O, ye may spake all yer soft words, an' shake yer head, an' not belave me, fur I consider it awfully incredible myself, that Irishmen will do such things; an' ye may call me distraught, an' all that; but I knows what I says, an' my advice is not to be afther defendin' the murtherin', thavin' set, if ye want to be respected in this region of country! Don't ye bother wid the Mollie Maguires!"
Before McKenna had time for a reply, the afternoon passenger train came shrieking around an abrupt curve, the switchman seized his keys and flag, and ran off to attend to his duties; and the detective, pocketing the Boston newspaper, intending to return it, retired to his boarding-place. The Pilot, he thought, would prove a valuable document to him, from the article he had been discussing.
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