A few days after McKenna's initiation into the Mollie Maguires, he was surprised, upon entering Lawler's bar-room, to find his friend with one limb bandaged, sitting by the fire, in an easy chair, while Mrs. Lawler busied herself behind the counter attending to the spirituous wants of several acquaintances and patrons, and Mike commenting upon some serious difficulty which had befallen him. In response to an inquiry by one of the new arrivals, the landlord, between groans and grimaces, informed those present that he had received a shot in the leg, the night before, while attempting to quell a difficulty in front of Cleary's drinking place. He was quite seriously wounded; his countenance wore a pale and anxious appearance, and Mrs. Lawler, only recently recovered from a protracted and dangerous illness, was nervous and low spirited. McKenna promptly gave assistance, made himself generally useful about the premises, and also attended to some outside business for the tavern-keeper. When the people had all dispersed, Lawler proceeded to show him his hurt, which the quick eye of the detective was not long in discovering must have occurred as a result of Mike's careless handling of his own revolver, and not through any assault by a second person. The bullet penetrated the anterior portion of the right thigh, ranged downward, deflecting a little toward the left, and finally found lodgment near the skin immediately above the knee-joint, whence the scalpel of the surgeon had already removed it. There was a long, painful and dangerous channel ploughed through the muscles, but happily for Lawler and his family no important vein or artery 157had been severed. If properly cared for, there was reason to believe the healing process might be accomplished by nature without the sloughing away of the coats of the femoral artery. Should these finally give way, the end would certainly ensue, as nothing could save the victim from bleeding to death.
"Tell me, thrue and honest now," said McKenna, "how this thing happened. It is plain enough that it wor your own hand that did it."
"Why the d—l do you say that?"
"Sure, an' you needn't take me for a gomersal, cruddy from the bogs! I kin see, wid half an eye, that nobody could iver shoot ye like this, exceptin' Mike Lawler himself!"
"Thrue fur ye!" unwillingly answered Lawler, making a comical grimace and groaning aloud with the pain, as he reached for his staff. "That's the raal fact of the matther! But how the d—l you came to know't, is more'n I can tell!"
"O, its aisy enough! Men don't lie down, as a general thing, to get shot; then there's no hole in your clothing, so the pistol must have been in your pocket when it exploded!"
"Well, never mind that now," whispered Lawler, turning an uneasy glance toward his wife, who was jingling the glasses as she cleansed them, and hence heard nothing of the communication. "Will ye kindly act as me crutch 'till I goes to the docthor? He made me promise to have it dressed the day; an' by me sowl, I'd about as soon hev the leg cut off at wonst!"
"Certainly," said the agent, "I'll help ye wid pleasure!"
And he aided the injured man to rise; but he could not stand, and was eased back into his chair.
"Mo-vrone! But ye can't walk! Ye must not try it! I'll go fetch the docthor right here! So kape quiet, an' I'll soon be back. An' while I'm gone, I'll jist step in at the carpenter's and tell him to make ye a crutch; fur sure, an' 158if ye iver intend for to save yer leg y'll want a substitute for a while!"
Muff Lawler was so nigh a dead faint that he could not thank McKenna, who scampered away to bring the surgeon.
The wound once dressed, and Lawler comfortably reclining on his bed, upstairs, McKenna volunteered to act as nurse, while the good woman of the house gave attention to the bar and all below. Then it was that the operative learned how the injury had been inflicted. As he shrewdly guessed, Muff had hurt himself while awkwardly returning a revolver to his pantaloons pocket, where he carelessly carried it, with the lock set preparatory for sudden use. Lawler closed the revelation with this unexplained but furtive statement:
"An' hadn't it been for the accident, Fergus would have made bloody work somewhere before the mornin'!"
Of course, McKenna did not press an inquiry as to the job he and Fergus were attending to, knowing that Lawler would tell it of his own accord, if left alone. All that day, and until late at night, the operative was employed as a nurse to the wounded Bodymaster.
A few days later the last meeting in April occurred, at Lawler's, and a young man named Dean was duly initiated, McKenna prominently assisting in the ceremony. Dean subsequently admitted to the agent that he had been better than a year endeavoring to reach the interior of that division, but somehow his moral character was either too good or too bad all the while; but a little serious trouble that he had recently fallen into made him a desirable applicant, or removed an objection, and he was at once notified of his acceptance. It seemed to McKenna, under such a state of affairs, that he was extremely fortunate in gaining for himself such prompt admission to the order.
McAndrew, it appeared, had not been inside a division room in more than three months, having, as will be remembered, only acted in an outside capacity at the detective's 159initiation—as he had temporarily resigned—which was an accepted custom in the society, since the troubles with the Church—to attend for a season to his neglected religious duties. Now, having been good during one-quarter of a year, he could come back and enact the part of a Mollie Maguire for the remaining three-quarters. This ingenious and handy manner of compromise also brought home a number of the brothers, lately absenting themselves for the same purpose, and Lawler's living room was soon uncomfortably small for their accommodation.
At the same meeting Lawler gave a rather remarkable address, in the course of which he said the time had nearly arrived for the annual meeting of their State Convention at Pittsburg, and he was requested, through a letter from Barney Dolan, County Delegate, to advise his division members of the necessity for raising—the amount and the request to apply to all the bodies in Schuylkill County—the sum of nine dollars toward paying the Delegate's expenses to the west, and also to New York. In the last-named place he would see the National Secretary, on important business. Without this action it would be impossible for the Division to secure the "goods"—signs and passwords—for the current quarter; and Mike eloquently urged that it was always desirable to keep the body in fair standing with the State and National officials. The pompous Bodymaster, still suffering considerably from his wound, kept his chair while he enlarged upon the prospect before the brotherhood. He believed, if the fraternity would stand by him, he could swell their ranks to at least one hundred good men and true, before the commencement of another year. Of course the speech, or talk, was purely conversational, rough and uncouth, and not particularly coherent, but it touched its hearers and was received with applause—which, however, was necessarily suppressed, because of the family being so near. It was not long, after the close of the harangue, before the needed funds were in the Bodymaster's possession. The 160meeting closed soon afterward, and the hours following to midnight were passed in carousal, singing, and card-playing, when the house was deserted, the doors fastened, and the Lawler family presently dreaming the dreams of the just.
At about this date, appreciating the fact that he would not soon find remunerative labor, and still desiring to remain in the mountains, McKenna saw the necessity for a fresh source from which ostensibly to obtain the amount of money that he must, in due course of events, disburse in the community. The cash must be spent, and a valid reason for its expenditure, a natural origin for the fund, must be furnished, otherwise his associates might begin to suspect there was something about him they did not fully comprehend. It was then he took Mike Lawler further into his confidence and told him a new secret, to the effect that he, McKenna, owned a certain house and lot in the city of Buffalo, New York, which was leased from year to year, and, through the medium of an attorney, named Clinton, who was in his interest, and who knew the address of some of his relatives in Philadelphia, he received twenty-five dollars a month as rental for the property. This story served two purposes. It covered up occasional letters that the postmaster of Shenandoah must know he received, and increased his income enough, with the alleged pension from the government and the money made in his pretended disposal of bogus currency, to account for all he spent in the mining country. His wearing of poor clothes and wishing to stay in the vicinity was consistent with his mission, which was, outwardly, to escape the eyes of the officers of the law. It seemed hardly possible that, under these safeguards, his real purpose would be revealed.
The fourth day of May, Lawler, having so far regained the use of his leg as to hobble about on a crutch, aided by a blackthorn stick, determined to visit Barney Dolan, at Big Mine Run, in person, obtain the "goods" for the quarter 161and turn over the collection made for the use of the County Delegate. McKenna was invited to accompany him. His arm was needed in helping Mike into and out of the buggy—besides, he liked to have some one about who could listen as well as talk. It was impossible for the agent to refuse, had he so desired, which he did not. He might learn something of importance, at small cost, and make the acquaintance of Dolan, who was then looked up to as the highest Mollie in all the county. So McKenna started out with his Bodymaster for Big Mine Run.
Riding over the country, although the air seemed chilly, was not really unpleasant, and the trip among the collieries, enlivened by cheerful conversation and spicy anecdote, in which both of the men participated, came to an end before either person expected. The big, good-natured County Delegate, who kept a small ride shebeen-shop, patronized by all travelers and miners, was very much pleased to see his company, and he came out to the buggy, before they alighted, to greet the men, personally helping Lawler to perform that, to him, slow and painful act.
Barney Dolan was a large, muscular man, of some forty years, much after the style of Dormer, of Pottsville, in face and feature, but by no means so tall or heavy.
After putting Mike in a chair, of course Dolan had to be informed of the particulars of Lawler's accident, brief mention of which he had seen in the Shenandoah Herald. The old story, of being fired upon by an unseen person, who he more than half suspected to be Dick Flynn, of Colorado Colliery, with whom he once had a difficulty, was related to Barney, with many adornments. As another matter of course, Dolan was profuse in sympathetic condolements with the injured man. When the County Delegate's back was turned, Muff Lawler sent an audacious wink of intelligence to McKenna not to spoil his story by letting slip the truth. The detective, who was contentedly smoking his short pipe, 162and sipping some strong poteen, sagely shook his head, as much as to say: "Don't fear! I'll keep your secret!"
Barney—whose name, from his habit of smooth, sweet talk, evidently should have been Blarney, for he must have kissed the famous stone on that famous Irish castle more times than once—proceeded to dilate upon the able manner in which he would represent the county in the State branch of the order, the great things he was about to do, and how, to sum up all, he believed it was the bounden duty of the Mollies to re-elect him Delegate at the ensuing county convention. To all of which egotistical bombast Mike and his fellow-traveler listened with an appearance of wrapped attention reflecting credit upon their capacity for acting that which they could not feel. Both really enjoyed his self-sufficiency—especially Lawler, who was afflicted with the same difficulty, as he was well aware, when he got about half-seas-over. After dinner, which was spread in the rear apartment, and the enjoyment of parting glass number one, at the invitation of the detective, the visitors proposed to leave.
Dolan made a little speech over the toast: "The Ancient Order—may it prosper and be peaceful!" offered by McKenna, and among other things remarked:
"Be them five crasses, but I'm glad indade to have coshered wid ye, mabouchal! An' when ye come here again, let it not be for a mere kailyee, but bring your clothes wid ye, and stop as long as ye plaze! An', Mike Lawler—bould fellow—you'll show yourself a gorsoon-bo, if ye let that lad slip away from your town at all! Kape him there! Ye greatly nade such stuff as he's made of to bring the body up to the correct standard! Not to say that ye are a wake Bodymaster, by any manes, fur ye are not, as I give ye credit for doing hapes of good things! But ye can have many more powerful members, now that ye have made the proper commencement! What you do is done nately, an' if I do say it, you have some few fellows over there capable of doin' 'a 163clane job,' an' what ye want is more of 'em! Be the same token, I may tell ye, Mike, that Shenandoah Division is the very first to send in the allowance an' take away the 'goods'! Oh, bad 'cess to me, but I'm gone a shaughran, an' come near forgettin' to remember that ye have paid yer money, but not got yer property! Well, never mind! It's all owin' to the poteen! Jest step in the other room—McKenna will excuse us—an' I'll instruct ye in the shortest time possible!"
"Business is business!" said McKenna. "Certainly I'll excuse ye!"
The succeeding conference between the County Delegate and the Bodymaster was of short duration, and, after parting glass number two, or three—the last one through the thoroughly aroused generosity of Barney—the visitors really bid the host farewell and made their departure.
The "goods," Lawler had learned from Dolan, were given out in Ireland, the transatlantic headquarters of the society, and thence transmitted to this country by a man named Murphy, employed as a steward on one of the Inman line of steamships plying between Liverpool and New York. From the latter city the National officers distributed them to the different divisions in this country.
No incident worthy of mention occurred to the two Mollies until they reached the vicinity of Colorado Colliery, where they paused to see Hugh Mulligan, a friend of Lawler's, who was, and for some time had been, very ill. Knowing they had reached a dangerous locality, as this was the stamping-ground of Dick Flynn, an inveterate enemy, yet they had no apprehension that they would come across him, and indeed were not of the class of men much reckoning upon serious consequences should they prove thus unfortunate.
Hugh Mulligan lived in a large frame house, at the top of the hill. When they stopped, finding that Mulligan was in bed, in the second story of the building, to his disappointment, 164Lawler, from his lameness, was quite unable to see his friend, but unwillingly compelled to remain in the parlor on the first floor. He had suffered pain enough, he thought, through alighting from the buggy, without climbing and descending a pair of stairs immediately thereafter. He sent along his compliments by McKenna, and made himself easy by the stove, awaiting that person's return. Mrs. Mulligan and another lady who had just stepped in to see the family went up with the detective. They found the sick man seemingly very low, in the last stages of pulmonary consumption, slowly coughing his life away. He was wan and attenuated, with features pinched, sharp, and anxiously drawn up, eyes unnaturally large, dark of color and suspiciously bright, and the glossy black hair contrasting strangely with waxlike forehead and cheek. The hands, with which he nervously picked and clutched at the counterpane, were thin, the fingers talon-like, and nails long, white, and rounding outward in the middle. With barely sufficient strength to raise his arms, he lay, a pitiable object, that once had been a large and powerful man. Just able to recognize McKenna, Hugh was seen to smile faintly, quite gratified that two of his comrades had shown their regard by calling to see him. In a feeble voice he asked his wife to bring some beer to the chamber, and give Mike Lawler the best the house afforded. Mrs. Mulligan obeyed, quickly returning with two bottles of Cronk beer, one of which McKenna opened, presenting a glass of its contents to the lady visitor.
The sick-room was small, with reasonably high walls, lighted by two windows, fronting the public rand at the side of the invalid's bed. Its furniture was poor and scant. There was an old-fashioned chest of drawers, not as high as a bureau, but taller than a trunk, made of pine, painted a dark red, on the lid of which stood some medicine bottles and an empty tumbler and spoon. Near by was a bit of cracker, which the sick man had nibbled with his teeth when 165besought to take some nourishment. The bedstead had high posts, and the bed and coverings were barely comfortable. Near the foot of the bed stood a high-backed, splint-bottom rocking-chair, with neat tidy over the top. Two or three other chairs and a small table completed the furniture of the apartment. No carpet concealed the floor, the boards of which were scrubbed white and clean. Plain bleached cotton formed the looped-up window curtains, and along the wall were nails, on which hung a soldier's overcoat, a hat, a heavy teamster's whip, and then several articles of female costume. At the head of the couch was a cheap print of St. Patrick, without a frame, and on the opposite wall a cross, entwined with real shamrock, the emblems worked with a needle in red worsted upon some gilt paste-board. A door led into the hall, at the head of the stairs. At one side of the center of the room was a sheet-iron heater, fed through a pipe from the apartments below, which came up through the floor by a tin thimble, or protector, and kept the atmosphere warm and equable. A small hat-stand supported the bottles of beer and a couple of common flaring beer tumblers.
Mrs. Mulligan, a motherly, kind-hearted woman, with blue eyes and plentiful iron-gray hair, a cap, and becomingly clad in black, stood at the side and partly toward the foot of the bed, knitting work in hand, a pitying glance resting upon her suffering husband. The lady caller, her bonnet and cloak unremoved, sat not far away, while McKenna was at that moment in the act of helping himself to a tumbler of beer, which he had not yet poured from the bottle. This was the condition of affairs, when the detective heard a heavy and hasty step upon the staircase, the door of the chamber was rudely thrust open, and big Dick Flynn, with pistol presented in one hand and a long knife brandished recklessly in the other, strode in and paused before the entrance. His aim was directed upon the sick man in the bed. Mulligan 166uttered a despairing wail, and, nervously throwing up the coverings, drew his head beneath them. Mrs. Mulligan, almost paralyzed with fright, dropped her knitting, raised her hands and screamed "murder!" at the top of her voice, while the lady visitor, without pausing to say "good-by," flew past the intruder and down the stairs like a frightened deer. McKenna, who had paused in the work of decanting the contents of the bottle, heard Lawler hobbling, with crutch and stick, over the floor below, and, looking from the corner of his eye, soon saw the brave Bodymaster making rather rapid time, for a lame man, toward the gate, where his horse and buggy were standing. Then the agent had no doubt he was left to cope, single-handed, with the savage brute before him. He took in this idea in much less time than it has consumed to record the fact, and arrived at the conclusion that only calmness and the exertion of ingenuity could save his life. Dick did not shoot the sick man, who he was quite sure was Mike Lawler, but stood ready to fire. McKenna finished pouring out his beer, took up the second glass and the bottle, and with supreme impudence advanced a step toward Flynn, saying, not even forgetting his assumption of the brogue that he had used while in the country:
"Sure, an' is it yourself, Misther Flynn? An' its tired indade ye are, afther your long walk! Tak' a drap of the beer at Hugh's expense!"
And he proffered the bottle and glass.
Flynn was, in turn, thunderstruck by the coolness of his enemy, muttered something between his shut teeth, was undecided what to do, wavered, and at last, depositing knife and pistol on the little table, took the tumbler in one hand, the beer bottle in the other, and proceeded to drink.
No sooner had McKenna released bottle and glass than his right hand quickly, yet cautiously, sought the side-pocket of his coat, where rested his trusted seven-shooter. With a sudden 167twist of the wrist, holding a firm grasp upon the pistol stock, his thumb brought the hammer of the lock to full-cock. Still he did not display the repeater.
"By heaven! I've got Muff Lawler this time!" said Flynn. "Ye can't chate me! Pretendin' to be sick, or lame, won't save ye! I'm here to kill ye!"
"I guess not, my swate Raparee! Not by these lights!"
His wild, insane look rested uneasily on the half-concealed figure in the bed, as he said this, not perceiving the fact that McKenna had quietly changed position, and now stood somewhat nearer to him than before.
"Oh, I'm not Muff Lawler!" painfully gasped Mulligan, exposing his white, almost spectral features. The voice was stronger than usual. He had summoned all his vital powers to repel that which he might well believe a hateful vision. "I'm only poor, sick, disabled Hugh Mulligan!"
Turning his eye to the window, Flynn beheld Lawler, driving away in the buggy, the horse's head turned toward town. Then he fiercely faced McKenna, and exclaimed:
"You've saved Muff Lawler, but you are his 'butty,' and I'm here to kill one of the two—so it seems you are the one!"
"I guess not, me swate raparee! Not by these lights!"
And the detective drew his weapon, bringing it close to the man's face, until the dark muzzle rested, deadly, sullenly cold, in close contact with the ruffian's bare cheek. Flynn, drunk and infuriated as he was, could not resist that forbidding and blood-chilling argument. It was plain that the lock was set, the man's finger resting on the trigger. He began to tremble like a poplar leaf in the wind, his color shifted from red to white, the features relaxed, the corners of the mouth fell down, and his whole appearance was fearfully changed.
This book is provided by FunNovel Novel Book | Fan Fiction Novel [Beautiful Free Novel Book]