Bulger went on. “You've got to take it as it is or keep out. It's as tricky and full o' bluff as a game o' poker. I'd like to see you make it better. You'll have a chance by-and-by; go ahead and see what you can do.”
Well, there was some mud-flinging in the campaign, and Mr. McCarthy was blamed for the sins of Bulger, and came to his honors by-and-by with tempered enthusiasm and increased humility. A certain newspaper had opposed him with cruel vindictiveness. It told of his humble origin, and called him “Pegleg McCarthy” and “the son of a washwoman” and “a man of vaulting and unwarranted ambitions.” These were the poisoned arrows of a rude time, and they scarred the soul of McCarthy and helped to make him a fighter.
Meanwhile I sat one evening in the shop with Pearl and Barker.
“Mack is a great boy,” said my old friend. “Sat here until midnight the other evening; said he hated politics, and wished he was out of it. I called Barker up, and give him a talkin' to right then and there.”
“How about the talented young lady?” I inquired.
“I don't believe he'll marry her. He ain't so green as he used to be—”
He was interrupted by a rap at the basement door. I opened it, and four masked men crowded over its threshold. I grappled with their leader, for the truth had flashed upon me—they were after Pearl, “the machine man.” I fought like a tiger, and stopped them for a second there by the doorway, and then they stopped me. One of them threw a piece of iron and struck me in the face with it; but I had saved my friend, with the help of Mr. Barker, who had seized one by the seat of his trousers. I came to in a dash of spray. A man had fallen across my legs and another lay near me. I saw a shaft of water strike a third and lift him off his feet and hurl him through the open doorway. He went like a leaf in the wind. A dash of spray put out the lamp. I scrambled to my feet, and stood to my ankles in water. I could hear the turbine purring like a great cat. In a second Pearl's electric lamp, that hung from the ceiling, began to glow. He stood by the pen-stock with a big iron nozzle in his hand. Two men lay near me. The water had struck like a sand-bag, and knocked the breath out of them. They had come to, and begun making for the open door on their hands and knees.
“Good-night, boys,” said the Pearl, pleasantly; “call again.”
He closed the door and bolted it, and took his pistol from a closet and turned off the light.
“Come on,” he whispered, “we've got to make for a doctor.”