"Oi'll do ut, sorr," replied Irish. "Oi c'n lay down th' logs all roight; th' throuble'll be wid th' figgers. If ondly me frind, Bill, wuz here—sure, there wuz th' foine lad!"
Appleton pulled at his gray mustache and regarded the other thoughtfully.
"You knew him well—this Bill?" he asked.
"Oi wuz th' fur-rst whoite man he seen in th' woods th' day he stud knee-dape in th' shnow av th' tote-road, lukin' down at th' carcass av D'ablish. An' from that toime on till he wint down undher th' logs we wuz loike two brothers—ondly more so."
"Pretty good man, was he?"
"A-a-h, there wuz a man!" Fallon's big fist banged noisily upon the table, and his blue eyes lighted as he faced his employer. "Misther Appleton, ye losht a man phwin th' greener wint undher. Fearin' nayther God, man, nor th' divil, he come into th' woods, an' in wan sayson lear-rnt more about logs thin th' most av us'll iver know."
"Moncrossen liked him—spoke very highly of him, and that is unusual with Moncrossen." Fallon's breath whistled through his teeth at the words.
"Loiked um, did he? Sure he loiked um—loike a rabbit loikes a wolf!"
He leaned forward in his chair, punctuating his remarks with stabs of a huge forefinger upon the other's knee.
"Misther Appleton, Moncrossen hated um! An' ivery man along th' river that day knows that av ut wuzn't fer Moncrossen, th' greener'd be livin' this minit—ondly we can't pr-roove ut. Th' boss hated um because he wuz a bether man—because he know'd he wuz a clane man, wid a foightin' hear-rt an' two fists an' th' guts to carry um t'rough. He chilled th' har-rt av th' boss th' fur-rst noight he seen um, an' from thin on th' fear wuz upon um fer th' bird's-eye."