nwhile Dave took the horses out, walked inside, and threw himself on
the sofa without uttering a word. He felt ill.

Mother was in a paroxysm of fright. She threw her arms about
frantically and cried for someone to come. At last she sat down and
tried to think what she could do. She thought of the very thing, and
ran for the carving-knife, which she handed to Dave with shut eyes. He
motioned her with a disdainful movement of the elbow to take it away.

Would Maloney never come! He was coming, hat in hand, and running for
dear life across the potato-paddock. Behind him was his man. Behind
his man--Sal, out of breath. Behind her, Mrs. Maloney and the children.

"Phwat's the thrubble?" cried Maloney. "Bit be a dif--adher? O, be
the tares of war!" Then he asked Dave numerous questions as to how it
happened, which Joe answered with promptitude and pride. Dave simply
shrugged his shoulders and turned his face to the wall. Nothing was to
be got out of him.

Maloney held a short consultation with himself. Then--"Hould up yer
hand!" he said, bending over Dave with a knife. Dave thrust out his
arm violently, knocked the instrument to the other side of the room,
and kicked wickedly.

"The pison's wurrkin'," whispered Maloney quite loud.

"Oh, my gracious!" groaned Mother.

"The poor crathur," said Mrs. Maloney.

There was a pause.

"Phwhat finger's bit?" asked Maloney. Joe thought it was the littlest
one of the lot.

He approached the sofa again, knife in hand.

"Show me yer finger," he said to Dave.

For the first time Dave spoke. He said:

"Damn y'--what the devil do y' want? Clear out and lea' me 'lone."

Maloney hesitated. There was a long silence. Dave commenced breathing
heavily.

"It's maikin' 'm slape," whispered Maloney, glancing over his shoulder
at the women.

"Don't let him! Don't let him!" Mother wailed.

"Salvation to 's all!" muttered Mrs. Maloney, piously crossing herself.

Maloney put away the knife and beckoned to his man, who was looking on
from the door. They both took a firm hold of Dave and stood him upon
his feet. He looked hard and contemptuously at Maloney for some
seconds. Then with gravity and deliberation Dave said: "Now wot 'n th'
devil are y' up t'? Are y' mad?"

"Walk 'm along, Jaimes--walk 'm--along," was all Maloney had to say.
And out into the yard they marched him. How Dave did struggle to get
away!--swearing and cursing Maloney for a cranky I