was a “special” or nothing; and the bleared eyes were on him once more.
“Come from the country?”
“Yes.”
“Saddle a horse?”
“Yes.”
“And ride him after?”
“Better try me.”
“Well, so I will! You be ready in an hour and a horse’ll be ready for you. I’ll go back with a groom if with nothing else!”
“Wait!” said Tom.
“What’s up now?”
“I’m supposed to have committed a murder,” said Tom through his teeth. “In one family they wouldn’t keep me—”
The other drowned his words with a bellowing laugh.
“You wont be the only one at Castle Sullivan!” cried he. “We don’t mind what you’ve done, bless you, so long as you don’t try it on again up there! If you do—” and he jerked a great close-cropped head in the direction of the barrack triangles, while a bloated lower lip stuck out like a tongue between his short fair beard and moustache. “There never yet was the lag that bested Nat Sullivan,” he added with another of his oaths; “and you don’t look the fool to try it on. So be ready in an hour sharp, or you look out!”
“Is he Nat Sullivan?” said Tom to the officers as the stout young man staggered off.
“Ay, ay,” said they; “that’s the celebrated Mr. Nat!”
“Celebrated?”
“They’re all that, you’ll find, are the Sullivans of Castle Sullivan. You wait and see. I sha’n’t say
