“Ye’re hurtin’ me, Jim,” said the girl, and he lifted her in his arms and carried her to a seat.
“Now are ye better?” he asked, not at all unkindly. “Will I get ye a glass of cordial?”
“Don’t bother about cordial,” said the girl; “but go out and look for Dermod Flynn. Ye said that ye’d go out a good while ago.”
“Why are ye so anxious about him, girsha?” asked Jim. “One would think that he was a brother of yours. Maybe indeed——”
He paused, looked round, then without another word he rose, went out into the street’ and took his way to the wharf, and there, when he could not find Dermod Flynn after a few minutes’ search, he sat down on a capstan, lit his pipe and puffed huge clouds of smoke up into the air.
“Now I wonder why that Norah Ryan is so anxious about Dermod Flynn?” he muttered. “Man! it’s hard to know, for these women are all alike.... By Cripes, she’s a fine built bit of a lassie. So is old Oiney Dinchy’s daughter ... Frosses and Glenmornan for women and fighters!... And the best fighters don’t always get the best women. Now, that Norah Ryan will have nothin’ at all to do with me as far as I can see; it’s Dermod Flynn that she wants.... I’ll have to look round for another wench, and girsha Oiney Dinchy (Oiney Dinchy’s daughter) is a soncy slip of a cutty.”
When Dermod Flynn came along Jim had to look at him very closely before realising that this was the youth whom he had known in Glenmornan two summers before. Dermod stood sturdily on his legs; his shoulders were broad, his back straight, and his well-formed chest betokened great strength even now at the age of fourteen. A bundle dangled on his arm; one knee was out through his trousers, and he carried a hazel stick in his hand.
“Patrick’s Dermod!” exclaimed Jim, a glance of glad recognition coming into his eyes when he had stared for a moment at Flynn. “By Cripes! ye’ve grown to be a big healthy bucko since last I saw ye.”
Dermod flushed with pleasure. Jim began to ply him with questions about his work in Tyrone, his masters, whether they were good or bad, and—above all—if he had ever had a fight since he left home.
Dermod assured him that he had had many a hard, gruelling fight; knocked down a man twice his size with one blow of his fist and blackened the eyes of a youth who was head and shoulders taller than himself.