CHAPTER XXVI
THE GOOD SAMARITANS
She looked sharply at him through her bright blue eyes.
"Are ye saaking to make me belave ye are from Ireland?"
"Sartinly--Mike Murphy, from the town of Tipperary, County of Tipperary,at your sarvice," and he bowed again.
"Arrah, poor Ireland, how many wrongs are heaped upon ye! I was sure fromyer accint that ye were a Dutchman or Frinch."
"May I ask yer name, me leddy?"
"Mrs. Maggie McCaffry, and me husband is Tam that is working for Mr.Burns at Beartown."
Mike clasped his hands and with a glowing expression stepped forward.
"I knowed it! I knowed it!" he exclaimed, as if overrunning with joy.
"Knowed phwat?"
"That ye were my mither's fourth cousin that lift Tipperary fur Noo Yorksix years ago, but by some mistake landed in Dublin jail--bad cess tothem as made the same mistake!"
"It's bad enough fur ye to be born in the same counthry wid mesilf, but Iwar-r-n ye to make no claim to relationship. There's some things arespictable leddy can't stand."
"Did ye not almost break me heart by thinking I was a Dutchman?" askedMike reprovingly.
"I'll make the same roight by axing the pardon of ivery Dutchman I maatsfor the rist of me born days. 'Twas har-r-d on the poor haythen."
"Aunt Maggie, I'll give ye all me wealth if ye'll consint to let me drymesilf in front of yer fire."
"Arrah, now, what are ye saying? Five cints is no object to me----"
Just then, in spite of an effort to prevent it, Mike's teeth chattered.Now that he had ceased walking he quickly became chilled. The womannoticed it and her warm sympathy instantly welled up.
"'Tis a shame that I kipt ye talking nonsense wid me while ye wasshivering. Do ye walk straight into the house and war-r-m yersilf till Icome, which will be in a jiffy whin I have the rest of me clothes hungout. And if ye're hungry ye shall have food."
"I thank ye, aunty, but I am not in need of that."
Two small wooden steps were in front of the only door on that side of theneat little cottage. He pressed his thumb on the latch, pushed open thedoor and the next instant faced one of the greatest surprises of hislife.
The lower floor consisted of two rooms, a kitchen and a general livingroom. The fire in the former would have been enough for the interior, butfor the fact that a visitor had preceded Mike, and because of hispresence a roaring fire was burning on the hearth. In front of this sat ayoung man leaning back in a rocking chair, with a bandaged leg resting ona pillow laid upon a second chair in front of him. He was smoking acigarette, and despite the fact that something ailed him, looked quitecomfortable.
As the door opened, his eyes met those of Mike Murphy, who halted withone foot over the threshold, started and exclaimed:
"Can I belave what me eyes tell me! Is it _yersilf_?"
The young man sitting before him, smoking and nursing his injured limb,was Orestes Noxon, whom Mike chased away from the Beartown post officethe night before, and who received a part of the charge from the shotgunof Gerald Buxton.
The face of the injured youth flushed and he laughed nervously, but withamazing coolness answered:
"I guess you don't need spectacles. You've got the best of me; I'm downand you're up."
"There's an old account to be squared atween us, but that can rist tillye become yersilf. Be the same token, are ye much hurt?"
Mike's Irish sympathy immediately went out to the fellow, who certainlywas at his mercy.
"I can't say I am. But your clothing is wet. I heard a part of your talkwith Mrs. McCaffry--God bless her splendid soul!--so suppose you comecloser where you will be in front of the fire and can dry yourself, andwe'll get on better."
It was good advice and Mike acted upon it. Standing with his back to theblaze, he looked down in the face of the criminal whose self-possessionhe could not help admiring.
"You remember our little foot race from the back of the Beartown postoffice?" said Noxon, as if referring to an incident in which he felt noparticular interest.
"I do, but I niver won a prize at running and ye give me the slip."
"Only to get in front of that beefeater with a shotgun. Why didn't youfire when you were chasing and threatening me?"
"I couldn't have touched off that busted gun any more than I could havefired a broom handle."
"I made the mistake of thinking the other fellow would be equallyforbearing and kept on running, till all at once, bang! he let drive. Icaught a good part of the charge in that leg below the knee. It didn'thurt much at first, and after managing to get hold of his gun I made himdance for me. It would have killed you to see him," and at therecollection the young man laughed hard.
"His boy Jim obsarved it all and told us and we laughed," said Mike, witha grin. "The sight must have been very insthructive."
"It was, to that old codger, who won't get over his lesson for a month.Well, as the gun wasn't of any use to me I threw it away and started tofind my friends and the boat we came on. By and by my leg began to hurt,I suppose from walking so much and a tumble I got by catching my foot inthe root of a tree. I sat down to rest awhile and when I got up it hurtso badly that I thought it was all up with me. You know it was night, andsomehow I had gone astray in the infernal pine woods. The wound wasbleeding, and I sat down again intending to wait till morning. By and byI heard a dog bark so near that I climbed to my feet again and made byway to this house. McCaffry and his wife were asleep and it took a gooddeal of banging and shouting for me to wake them. But when they found outwhat was the matter they took me in, and my own father and mother couldnot have been kinder."
"What did they do fur yer fut?"
"The good woman not only washed the wound, but, by the light of the lampwhich her husband held, picked out every one of the shot that had beenburied there and were making the trouble. Then she bathed the hurt againand wrapped it about with the clean linen, as you see for yourself. Allthat remains is for me to keep quiet for a few days and nature will dothe rest."
"Wouldn't it be well if I got a docther fur ye?"
Noxon looked up in the face of the Irish youth, who tried to keep a gravecountenance.
"I think not," replied the sufferer.
There was a world of significance in the words, and both understood.
Strange that these two who had never met before except as the bitterestof enemies should talk now as comrades. Mike kept pinching his clothingand turning every side to the blaze, thus drying the garments quiterapidly. He was so interested in the story of Noxon that he grewcareless.
"I think I see smoke coming from behind you," finally said the sitter.
Mike reached back to investigate and with a gasp snatched back hisfingers.
"I'm afire! Is there a well outside that I can dive into the same?"
"Turn around; I can help you," said Noxon, laughing, dropping his footand sitting forward.
Together they quenched the twist of blaze which if left alone would haveplayed the mischief with Mike's garments.
"I'm thinking this is a little different, Mr. Noxon, from last night."
"It is, and I hope it will always stay that way."
Mike was astonished and looked questioningly at the fellow.
"Phwat might ye be maaning?" he asked, lowering his voice.
Noxon tried to speak, but his voice broke. He snatched out hishandkerchief from the side pocket of his coat and pressed it to his eyes.Then his breast heaved and he broke into sobbing.
The heart of Mike melted at the sight. He had never dreamed of anythinglike this. Enmity and resentment gave way to an anguish of sympathy forthe fellow. He longed to say something comforting, but could not think ofa word, and remained mute. Very soon the youth regained his self-control.Dropping his handkerchief in his lap, and with eyes streaming, heexclaimed from the very depths of his despair:
"Oh, why didn't that man aim better and kill me! I'm not fit to live! I'mthe worst villain unhanged!
I am lost--damned, and a curse to those wholove me!"
Mike pulled himself together sufficiently to reply:
"I don't think ye're quite all them things. Cheer up! cheer up, oldfellow!"
Noxon did not speak, but slowly swayed his head from side to side, likeone from whom all hope had departed. Mike drew a chair beside him, and astenderly as a mother lifted the white hand from where it lay on thehandkerchief, and held it in his own warm grasp.
"Noxy, me bye, Mike Murphy is yer frind through thick and thin--don't yeforget _that_--and I'm going to see ye through this if I have to break athrace in trying."
"_You!_" repeated the despairing one, looking up in Mike's honest blueeyes. "No one can save a wretch like me. I'm not worth saving!"
"Ye forget there's One to whom the same is aisy, me bye. Ye feel down inthe mouth jest now, as Jonah did respicting the whale, but bimeby thisfog will clear away and the sun will shine forth again. I've been in somepurty bad scrapes mesilf and He niver desarted me. Why, it ain't twohours, since He raiched out His hand, grabbed me by the neck and saved mefrom drowning. I tell ye, Noxy, that He won't fail ye."
"But you never did what I have done."
The Irish youth bent his head as if recalling his past life.
"I can't say that I did, but I'm the meanest scamp that iverlived--barring yersilf," he added, with the old twinkle in his eyes."Come, now, be a man and we'll have ye out of this scrape as quick as Ijumped awhile ago whin I awoke to the fact that me trousers was afire."
Noxon actually smiled at the recollection.
"You call yourself a scamp. Why, you are an angel compared with me--so iseverybody! Kit Woodford and Graff Miller are a thousand times better thanI."