“Where, sor, if I may be so bould?”
“Down the river, clear out o’ this State, where the laws are not severe enough on burglars and cut-throats to make honest folks feel that their lives and property are tolerable safe.”
“Thin, sor, beggin’ yer pardin fer the liberty, ye’d betther kape it close that yer manin’ to thravel in sich a unpertected manner.”
“Of course you needn’t blab about it; but I’ll have a loaded revolver, and if the rascals come, I’ll show them that I know how to protect myself.”
“Gettin’ in a big hurry, indade!” chuckled Phelim, as he trudged on again. “He don’t know what fer.”
There was a meeting of the band of villains that night, when all was arranged for the carrying out of O’Rourke’s atrocious designs upon the old farmer.
The next morning, as Himes and his wife rose from the breakfast-table, a big, burly German presented himself before the open kitchen door.
“Goot tay, mynheer,” he said, touching his cap; “I vas shoost looking for a chob ov vork, to makes te monish to pay for de wittles and de clo’es. I vil do anytings you vil haf to be tun.”
Himes asked a few questions as to his qualifications for the work of raft-making and the wages he expected, and receiving satisfactory replies, engaged him at once.
As Himes stepped out into the dooryard, having directed the new-comer to take a seat at the table, and Belinda set his breakfast before him, a sly wink let her into the secret that here was one of the accomplices of the would-be assassin of her husband.