"Victoria by the Grace of God, eh? Well, see here," he
continued, solemnly putting the summons in the fire and watching
it blaze, "if Victoria by the Grace of God wants me, she can send
for me--send a coach and six for Patrick Henry Considine, late
Patrick Henry Keogh! And then I mightn't go! There'll be only one
thing make me go where I don't want to go, and that's a policeman
at each elbow and another shovin' behind. I'd sooner do a five-stretch
than take Peggy back again. And that's the beginning and the end
and the middle of it. And now I'll wish you good night."
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE SAVING OF CONSIDINE.
At grey dawn all the camp was astir. Hugh looked from under his
mosquito-net, and saw old Considine over the fire, earnestly frying
a large hunk of buffalo meat. He was without a trouble in the world
as he turned the hissing steak in the pan. Two black gins in brief
garments--a loin cloth and a villainously dirty pyjama-jacket
each--were sitting near him, languidly killing the mosquitoes which
settled on their bare legs. These were Maggie and Lucy, but they
had degenerated with their surroundings. Tommy Prince was oiling
a carbine, and one of the shooters was washing his face at a basin
formed by scratching a small hole in the ground and pressing a
square of canvas into the depression.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247