CHAPTER XIX
BURNED BRIDGES
"By Heaven!" O'Hara gasped, "the voice has spoke."
"Aye, so it has," said Gleazen slowly.
"Neil, Molly, sure and we'd best put out to sea. This is no time for us, surely. A month from now, say, we could slip in by night with a boat—"
"O'Hara," said Matterson's light, almost silvery voice, "have you turned coward?"
"No, not that, Molly! 'T is not I am scairt of any man that walks the green earth, Molly, but spirits is different."
"Spirits!" Matterson was softly laughing. "I didn't think, O'Hara, you'd be one to turn black."
"Laugh, curse you!" O'Hara cried hotly. "If 'twas you had seen a glimmer of the things I've seen with my own two eyes; if 't was you had seen a man die because he went against taboo; if 't was you had seen a witch doctor bring the yammering spirit back unwilling to a cold body; if 't was you had seen a man three weeks dead get up and dance; if 't was you had seen a strong man fall down without the breath of life in him at all, and all for nothing else but a spell was on him, maybe then you'd believe me. I swear by the blessed saints in heaven, it's throwing our lives away to go up river now; and all I've got to say for Bull is, God help him!"
The others were looking at O'Hara curiously. The lantern light on their faces brought out every scar and wrinkle and showed that strong passions were contending within each of them.