Ike rubbed himself, and leaned on the wall.
“Nellie up at the ’ouse told me I’d fair come over any gal if I scented meself. But I’m blamed ef I’ll drink all that bottle fur any gal livin’. She’ll hev to take me smellin’, or leave me.”
Danny carried the bottle back to the whare, and told things. And Ike had taken little joy in life since. For the Mains boys knew what to do with a joke when they saw one.
The night was cold with grey blankets over the hills, and a soft mist rolling along the river. By the blaze of Phelan’s one door-lamp Randal caught sight of Art’s back in the bar, with Roddy Duncan’s bright face beside it.
He slung through the township full-speed, took the track past the Creek to the Lion, and learnt from Fysh that Ormond was three miles off with Father Denis. He turned then, with wrath on his mouth; rode back, and flushed Ormond in the smoke of the priest’s little room.
“That young box-man of yours is with Art Scannell in Phelan’s bar," he said, "I’ve learnt something of Art this last week, and I know he’ll mess Roddy up pretty quick. Better put a spoke in his wheel, hadn’t you?”
Ormond knew Randal as a gentleman may know a station-hand. He put down his pipe.
“Who sent you down to tell me that?” he demanded.
