The door opened, and with the rush of cold air Jimmy gave just
one glance toward it, and slid the revolver into his pocket,
reached for his hat, and started in the direction of his coat.
"Glad to see you, Micnoun," he said. "If you are goingsh home,
I'll jish ride out with you. Good night, boysh. Don't forgetsh
the coon hunt," and Jimmy was gone.
A minute later the door opened again, and this time a man of
nearly forty stepped inside. He had a manly form, and a manly
face, was above the average in looks, and spoke with a slight
Scotch accent.
"Do any of ye boys happen to know what it was Jimmy had with him
when he came in here?"
A roar of laughter greeted the query. The Thread Man picked up
the pail. As he handed it to Dannie, he said: "Mr. Malone said he
was initiating a new milk pail, but I am afraid he has overdone
the job."
"Thank ye," said Dannie, and taking the battered thing, he went
out into the night.
Jimmy was asleep when he reached the buggy. Dannie had long since
found it convenient to have no fence about his dooryard. He drove
to the door, dragged Jimmy from the buggy, and stabled the horse.
By hard work he removed Jimmy's coat and boots, laid him across
the bed, and covered him. Then he grimly looked at the light in
the next cabin.
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