himself useful quickly resulted in his
transference to the stable. A garret in the barn was furnished with a
bed for him, and Jim's life was soon down to its lowest level. He had
his friends, for he was full of fun and good to look upon: but they were
not of the helpful kind, being recruited chiefly from the hostlers, the
pugilists, and the horsemen. He had time for amusements, too; but they
were nearly always of the boxing glove and the saddle. Books had little
charm for him, though he still found pleasure in reciting the heroic
ballads of Lachlin, the Raid of Dermid, the Battle of the Boyne, and in
singing "My Pretty, Pretty Maid," or woodmen's "Come all ye's." His
voice was unusually good, except at the breaking time; and any one who
knew the part the minstrel played in Viking days would have thought the
bygone times come back to see him among the roystering crowd at
Downey's.

The next three years that passed were useless except for this, they
gifted Jim with a tall and stalwart form and shoulders like a grown man.
But they added little to the good things he had gathered from his mother
and from Fightin' Bill. At sixteen he was six feet high, slim and boyish
yet, but sketched for a frame of power. All this time his meagre keep
and his shabby clothes were his only pay. But Jim had often talked
things over with his friends and they pointed out that he was now doing
man's work and getting less than boy's pay. The scene that followed his
application for regular wages was a very unpleasant one; and John Downey
made the curious mistake of trying to throw young Jimmy out. The boy
never lost his temper for a moment but laughingly laid his two strong
hands on the landlord's fat little shoulders and shook him till his
collar popped and his eyes turned red. Then Jim grinned and said:

"I told ye I wasn't a kid anny more."

It was the landlady's good sense that made a truce, and after a brief,
stormy time the long-legged boy was reinstated at wages in the yard.

At seventeen Jim was mentioned among the men as a likely "bhoy." Women
in the street would turn to look in admiration at his square shoulders,
lithe swing, and handsome head. But the life he led was flat, or worse
than flat. The best that can be said of it is that in all this sordid
round of bar and barn he learned nothing that in any sort had power to
harm his rare physique. His language at times was the worst of its lurid
kind. His associates were coarse and drunke