Scully, warming one foot and then
the other at the rim of the stove, muttered to himself with Celtic
mournfulness. The cowboy had removed his fur-cap, and with a dazed and
rueful air he was now running one hand through his tousled locks. From
overhead they could hear the creaking of boards, as the Swede
tramped here and there in his room.
The sad quiet was broken by the sudden flinging open of a door
that led toward the kitchen. It was instantly followed by an inrush of
women. They precipitated themselves upon Johnnie amid a chorus of
lamentation. Before they carried their prey off to the kitchen,
there to be bathed and harangued with a mixture of sympathy and
abuse which is a feat of their sex, the mother straightened herself
and fixed old Scully with an eye of stern reproach. "Shame be upon
you, Patrick Scully!" she cried, "Your own son, too. Shame be upon
you!"
"There, now! Be quiet, now!" said the old man weakly.
"Shame be upon you, Patrick Scully!" The girls rallying to this
slogan, sniffed disdainfully in the direction of those trembling
accomplices, the cowboy and the Easterner. Presently they bore Johnnie
away, and left the three men to dismal reflection.
VII
"I'd like to fight this here Dutchman myself," said the cowboy,
breaking a long silence.
Scully wagged his head sadly. "No, that wouldn't do. It wouldn't
be right.
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