of his wife's, stolen from the line in the back-yard. Roscommon would
continue his wiping without looking up, but yet conscious of the
presence of each customer. "And it's not another dhrop ye'll git, Jack
Brown, until ye've wiped out the black score that stands agin ye."
"And it's there ye are, darlint, and it's here's the bottle that's been
lukin' for ye sins Saturday." "And fwhot hev you done with the last
I sent ye, ye divil of a McCorkle, and here's me back that's bruk
entoirely wid dipping intil the pork barl to giv ye the best sides, and
ye spending yur last cint on a tare into Gilroy. Whist! and if it's
fer foighting ye are, boys, there's an illigant bit of sod beyant the
corral, and it may be meself'll come out with a shtick and be sociable."
On this particular day, however, Mr. Roscommon was not in his usual
spirits, and when the clatter of horses' hoofs before the door announced
the approach of strangers, he absolutely ceased wiping his counter and
looked up as Dr. Guild, the President, and Secretary of the new Company
strode into the shop.
"We are looking," said the President, "for a man by the name of Wiles,
and three Mexicans known as Pedro, Manuel, and Miguel."
"Ye are?"
"We are!"
"Faix, and I hope ye'll foind 'em. And if ye'll git from 'em the score
I've got agin 'em, darlint, I'll add a blessing to it."
There was a laugh at this from the bystanders, who, somehow, resented
the intrusion of these strangers.
"I fear you will find it no laughing matter, gentlemen," said Dr. Guild,
a little stiffly, "when I tell you that a murder has been committed, and
the men I am seeking within an hour of that murder put up that notice
signed by their names," and Dr. Guild displayed the paper.
There was a breathless silence among the crowd as they eagerly pressed
around the Doctor. Only Roscommon kept on wiping his counter.
"You will observe, gentlemen, that the name of Roscommon also appears on
this paper as one of the original beaters."
"And sure, darlint," said Roscommon, without looking up, "if ye've no
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