What the priest did with Slavin after getting him inside I know not; that has always been a mystery to me. But when we were passing the saloon that night after taking Mrs. Mavor home, we saw a light and heard strange sounds within. Entering, we found another whisky raid in progress, Slavin himself being the raider. We stood some moments watching him knocking in the heads of casks and emptying bottles. I thought he had gone mad, and approached him cautiously.
‘Hello, Slavin!’ I called out; ‘what does this mean?’
He paused in his strange work, and I saw that his face, though resolute, was quiet enough.
‘It means I’m done wid the business, I am,’ he said, in a determined voice. ‘I’ll help no more to kill any man, or,’ in a lower tone, ‘any man’s baby.’ The priest’s words had struck home.
‘Thank God, Slavin!’ said Craig, offering his hand; ‘you are much too good a man for the business.’
‘Good or bad, I’m done wid it,’ he replied, going on with his work.
‘You are throwing away good money, Slavin,’ I said, as the head of a cask crashed in.
‘It’s meself that knows it, for the price of whisky has riz in town this week,’ he answered, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye. ‘Bedad! it was a rare clever job,’ referring to our Black Rock Hotel affair.
‘But won’t you be sorry for this?’ asked Craig.
‘Beloike I will; an’ that’s why I’m doin’ it before I’m sorry for it,’ he replied, with a delightful bull.