"I didn't think it was in ye, Dermod, to strike a friend," he said, and drove his fist for my face. But I had learned a little of the art of self-defence here and there; so it was that at the end of five minutes Jim, still willing in spirit but weak in flesh, was unable to rise to his feet, and I went out to the road again, having fought one fight in which victory gave me no pleasure.
I walked along heedlessly, but in some inexplicable manner my feet turned towards Glasgow. My brain was afire, my life was broken, and I almost wished that I had not asked about Norah when I met Jim. My last dream, my greatest illusion, was shattered now, and only at that moment did I realise the pleasure which the remembrances of early days in Norah's company had given me. I believed so much in my ideal love for Norah that I thought the one whom I idealised was proof against temptation and sin. My mind went back to the night when I saw her give the two-shilling piece, nearly all her fortune, to the man with the pain in his back—the same night when she and I both blushed at the frowardness of Gourock Ellen. Such goodness and such innocence! Instinctively I knew that her sin—not sin, but mistake—was due to her innocence. And some day Norah might become like Gourock Ellen. The thought terrified me, and almost drove me frantic. Only now did I know what Norah Ryan really meant to me. For her I lived, and for her alone. I loved her, then it was my duty to help her. Love is unworthy of the name unless it proves its worth when put to the test. I went to Glasgow and made enquiries for my sweetheart. For three whole weeks I searched, but my search was unsuccessful, and at last hunger drove me from the city.
Perhaps Jim knew of her abode? After our last encounter it was hard to go back and ask a favour of him. In the end I humbled myself and went and spoke to one of the women in the squad. She did not know where Norah was; and sour against Heaven and Destiny I went out on the long road again.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] Ordering and drinking whisky, and having no intention of paying for the drink, is known to navvies as "shooting the crow."
[5] Schooner. A large glass used for lager-beer and ale, which contains fourteen fluid ounces.
[6] A stick. A half-glass of whisky mixed with beer—a navvyism for petite verre.
[7] Pulling the hare's foot. A farmyard phrase. The hare in the cornfield takes refuge in the standing corn when the servants are reaping. To the farmer himself belongs the privilege of catching the animal. If he is unable to corner the hare he stands drinks to all the harvesters, and the drink is usually a sure one.