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PDF“Can’t we bury him, Mickey?”
“He’s buried already.”
The Irishman meant nothing especial in his reply, but there was a deep significance about it which sent a shudder through his hearer from head to foot. Yes, the stranger was buried, and in the same grave with him were Mickey O’Rooney and Fred Munson.
The speaker saw the effect his words had produced, and attempted to remove their sting.
“It looks very much to me as if the man had n’t done anything but thramp, thramp, without thrying any way of getting out, and then had keeled over and give up.”
“What could he do, Mickey?”
“Could n’t he have jumped into the stream, and made a dive? He stood a chance of coming up outside, and if he had n’t, he would have been as well off as he is now.”
“Is that what you mean to do?”
“I will, before I’d give up as he did; but it’s meself that thinks there’s some other way of finding our way. Bring me gun along, and come with me!”
Mickey carried the torch, because he wished to use it himself. He led the way back to where the stream disappeared from view, and there he made another careful examination, his purpose being different from what it had been in the first place. He stooped over and peered at the dark walls, noting the width of the stream and the contour of the bank, as well as the level of the land on the right. Evidently he had some scheme which he was considering.
He said nothing, but spent fully a half hour in his self-imposed task, during which Fred stood in the background, trying to make out what he was driving at. He saw that Mickey was so intently occupied that he was scarcely conscious of the presence of any one else, and he did not attempt to disturb him. Suddenly the Celt roused himself from his abstraction, and, turning to the expectant lad, abruptly asked:
“Do you know, me laddy, that it is dinner-time?”
“I feel as though it was, but we have no means of judging the time, being as neither of us carries a watch.”
“Come on,” added the Irishman, leading in the direction of the camp-fire. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring my watch wid me, but the trouble was, I was afeard that it might tire out my horse, for it was of goodly size. The last time it got out of order, it took a blacksmith in the owld country nearly a week to mend it. It was rather large, but it would have been handy. Whenever we wanted to cook anything, we could have used the case for a stew-pan, or we could have b’iled eggs in the same, and when we started our hotel at New Boston, it would have done for a gong. It was rather tiresome to wind up nights, as the key didn’t give you much leverage, and if your hold happened to slip, you was likely to fall down and hurt yersilf. But here we are, as Jimmy O’Donovan said when he j’ined his father and mother in jail.”
