ght Bart to himself instantly, and at the words he
turned the electric flashlight, that lodged under his pillow, full in
the direction of the sound, where it developed a strange picture and
printed it clearly on the opposite wall.

In the middle of the circle of light was a little barefoot man, in
trousers and shirt; a pair of sodden shoes lay at different angles where
they had been kicked off, probably making the sound that had wakened me,
and at the moment of the flash he was occupied in the wringing out of a
coat that seemed strangely long for the short frame upon which it had
hung. The face turned toward us was unmistakably Irish, comical even,
entirely unalarming, and with the expression, blended of terror and
doubt, that it now wore, he might have slipped from the pages of a
volume of Lever that lay face down on the table. The nose turned up at
the tip, as if asking questions of the eyes, that hid themselves between
the half-shut lids in order to avoid answering. The skin was tanned, and
yet you had a certain conviction that minus the tan the man would be
very pale, while the iron-gray hair that topped the head crept down to
form small mutton-chop whiskers and an Old Country throat thatch that
was barely half an inch long.

Bart touched me to caution silence, and I, seeing at once that there was
nothing to fear, waited developments.

As soon as he could keep his eyes open against the sudden glare, the
little man tried to grasp the column of light in his fingers, then
darted out of it, and I thought he had bolted from the barn; but no, he
was instantly back again, and dilapidated as he was, he did not look
like a professional tramp.

"No, yez don't fool Larry McManus agin! Yez are a mane, cold light with
all yer blinkin', and no fire beneath to give 'im the good uv a cup o'
tay or put a warm heart in 'im! Two nights agone 'twas suspicion o' rats
kep' me from shlapin', yesternight 'twas thought o' what wud become of
poor Oireland (Mary rest her) had we schnakes there ter fill the drames
o' nights loike they do here whin a man's a drap o'er full o' comfort.
'Tis a good roof above! Heth, thin, had I a whisp o' straw and a bite,
wid this moonlight fer company, I'd not shog from out this the night to
be King!

"Saints! but there's a dog beyant the bark!" he cried a minute after, as
the pup crept over to him and began to be friendly,--"I wonder is a mon
sinsible to go to trustin' the loight o' any moon that shines f