t makes you think that?"

"Oi don't think it; Oi know it. Afther ye wint away to th' shtation Oi
sat on th' verandy shmokin' me poipe an' thinkin'. The longer Oi thought
th' more froightened Oi became. It wur Porrfeeus dil Noort thot paid me
well to assist him in a litthle schame to trap a certain young gintleman
named Frank Merriwell. Oi took his money and promised to rinder me best
assistance. Oi know this parrut av th' counthry well, an' so Oi was
valuable to Dil Noort. Oi towld him about th' owld hut in th' valley
an' th' natural well. Oi towld him a man dhropped inther thot well
moight shtay there an' rot widout ivver bein' found. That wur pwhere he
meant to dispose av you, Misther Merriwell. Afther that it was yersilf
thot saved me loife at Sarrynack Lake. Thin Oi says, says Oi, 'O'Toole,
ye miserable divvil, av ye don't git aven wid thot foine young gint, ye
ought to be hanged fer a shnake.' Oi knew ye would be thrapped thot same
noight, Misther Merriwell, an' Oi rode loike th' ould bhoy to cut yez
off an' get me finger in the poie. You remimber pwhat happened."

"I remember that you aided me to escape from the hands of Del Norte and
his paid desperadoes," nodded Frank.

"An' got mesilf disloiked fer it. Oi knew Dil Noort would be ready to
cut me throat on soight. Oi thought th' safest thing wur to hilp capture
Dil Noort, an' thot's pwhat took me here, pwhere Oi arrived just in
toime to hilp in the search fer Misther Shcott."

"And help us you certainly did," nodded Merry. "Aided by you, we lost no
time in finding the valley and the well in which Mr. Scott was
imprisoned."

"But it's th' divvil's own doin's there was before thot," said O'Toole.
"Oi wur in a bad shcrape whin Oi run inther th' hands av Bantry Hagan
an' he marruched me to thot old hut, where Oi was bound hand an' foot.
Nivver a bit did Oi drame th' drunk aslape on th' flure av th' hut an'
shnorin' away wur yersilf, Misther Merriwell. Aven whin Oi lay chlose to
yez an' ye began to untoie me bonds Oi couldn't suspict it was yersilf.
Whin Dil Noort showed up Oi knew it meant throuble, an' sure it wur a
relafe to feel in me hand th' pistol ye put there. Th' divvil bent over
me wid a knoife in his hands, an' Oi saw murther in his oies. Thin Oi
didn't wait, but Oi shot him through th' head."

"But I don't understand what all this has to do with the fear you
profess to feel," said Hatch. "I didn't fancy you were a coward,
O'Toole."

"No more Oi am;