Tim nodded after the old woman as she went in.

"And who is she, Mr. Kearney?"

"A poor old creature who comes here once or twice in the week to have a
cup o' tea and maybe a little to go with it, with the cook. A poor old
soul dependin' on charity, and yet she won't take it from every one."

"Poor woman! Will you give her that?--not now, but when she goes out,
Mr. Kearney." He slipped a silver dollar into the landlord's hand. "No
need to tell her where it came from. I'll be going along now, I think,
to have a look at the town. I'll be back for supper."

"Good luck to you!"

Tim had not left the hotel a hundred yards behind him when he met a
Catholic priest.

"Good afternoon, Father," said Tim, and raised his hat.

"Good afternoon, sir. And is it"--the cane was shifted from the right
hand to the left, and the hand thus freed extended to Tim--"Mr.
Riley--isn't it?"

"It is; but how did you know, Father?"

"Oh, if Peter Kearney's long-legged Dinnie hasn't told half the quarries
before this of your name and business 'twill be because he's burst a
tire or broke his neck rolling down the steep hills. And so you're to
speak to us to-night?"

"God willing, I am."

"And you're not discouraged?"

"And why should I be discouraged?"

"Why? You must be a stranger to these parts."

"I am."

"And no one told you of what happened to the last man your party sent
here?"

"They did not. And what happened?"

"He was rode out of town on a rail."

"Well, well, Father. And what did he do, the poor man?"

"Oh, he only hinted at first that we were a lot of ignorant foreigners
who were Democrats because we didn't know any better; but he warmed up
as he went along. I don't know wherever they got him from. In the middle
of it Buck Malone gave them what they call his high sign--his right
forefinger raised so--and every man in the hall got up and walked out.
A few of them came back later and took him off. They didn't hurt him--no
bones broken or anything like that; but they do say he never waited for
the train when they turned him loose, but legged the thirty miles back
to the city without a single stop!"

"He did? Well, it's fine exercise, Father--running; though thirty miles
in one bite, to be sure, is a bit too much for good digestion, I'd say.
This Buck Malone--he's the boss here, Father?"

"He is. And a famous one for surprising folks."

"Thank you for the information, Father."

"It's no information. The very bab