Part 26 (1/2)

likewise the Hon. Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, Etcetera. There's two of me now, an' it's twice the amount I must be dhrinkin'. I swear, I feel a thirst risin' that minds me o' Ingy in the hills, an' the mess o' the Rile Irish wance again.”

”You'll be going away,” said Franklin, sadly, as he rose and took Battersleigh by the hand. ”You'll be going away and leaving me here alone--awfully alone.”

”Ned,” said the tall Irishman, rising and laying, a hand upon his shoulder, ”don't ye belave I'll be lavin' ye. I've seen the worrld, an' I must see it again, but wance in a while I'll be comin' around here to see the best man's country on the globe, an' to meet agin the best man I ivver knew. I'll not till why I belave it, for that I can not do, but shure I do belave it, this is the land for you. There'll be workin' an' thinkin' here afther you an' Batty are gone, an' maybe they'll work out the joy an' sorrow of ut here. Don't be restless, but abide, an' take ye root here. For Batty, it's no odds. He's seen the worrld.”

Battersleigh's words caused Franklin's face to grow still more grave, and his friend saw and suspected the real cause. ”Tut, tut! me boy,”

he said, ”I well know how your wishes lie. It's a n.o.ble gyurl ye've chosen, as a n.o.ble man should do. She may change her thought to-morrow. It's change is the wan thing shure about a woman.”

Franklin shook his head mutely, but Battersleigh showed only impatience with him. ”Go on with your plans, man,” said he, ”an' pay no attintion to the gyurl! Make ready the house and prepare the bridal gyarments.

Talk with her raysonable, an' thin thry unraysonable, and if she won't love ye peaceful, thin thry force; an' she'll folly ye thin, to the ind of the earth, an' love ye like a lamb. It's Batty has studied the s.e.x.

Now, wance there was a gyurl--but no; I'll not yet thrust mesilf to spake o' that. G.o.d rist her asy ivermore!”

”Yes,” said Franklin sadly, ”that is it. That is what my own answer has been. She tells me that there was once another, who no longer lives--that no one else--”

Battersleigh's face grew grave in turn. ”There's no style of a.s.sault more difficult than that same,” said he. ”Yet she's young; she must have been very young. With all respect, it's the nature o' the race o'

women to yield to the livin', breathin' man above the dead an'

honoured.”

”I had my hopes,” said Franklin, ”but they're gone. They've been doing well at the Halfway House, and I've been doing well here. I've made more money than I ever thought I should, and I presume I may make still more. I presume that's all there is--just to make money, and then more, if you can. Let it go that way. I'll not wear my heart on my sleeve--not for any woman in the world.”

Franklin's jaws set in fas.h.i.+on still more stern than their usual cast, yet there had come, as Battersleigh did not fail to notice, an older droop to the corners of his mouth, and a loss of the old brilliance of the eye.

”Spoken like a man,” said Battersleigh, ”an' if ye'll stick to that ye're the more like to win. Nivver chance follyin' too close in a campaign ag'inst a woman. Parallel an' mine, but don't uncover your forces. If ye advance, do so by rushes, an' not feelin' o' the way.

But tin to wan, if ye lie still under cover, she'll be sendin' out skirmishers to see where ye are an' what ye are doin'. Now, ye love the gyurl, I know, an' so do I, an' so does ivery man that ivver saw her, for she's the sort min can't help adorin'. But, mind me, kape away. Don't write to her. Don't make poetry about her--G.o.d forbid!

Don't do the act o' serrynadin' in anny way whativver. Make no complaint--if ye do she'll hate ye, like as not; for when a gyurl has wronged a man she hates him for it. Merely kape still. Ye've met your first reverse, an' ye've had your outposts cut up a bit, an' ye think the ind o' the worrld has come. Now, mind me, ould Batty, who's seen the lands; only do ye attind to dhrill an' sinthry-go an' commissariat, till in time ye find your forces in thrim again. By thin luk out fer heads stickin' up over the hills on the side o' the inimy, who'll be wonderin' what's goin' on. 'Go 'way,' she says to you, an' you go.

'Come back,' she whispers to herself, an' you don't hear it. Yet all the time she's wonderin' pfwhy you don't!”

Franklin smiled in spite of himself. ”Battersleigh's Tactics and Manual of Strategy,” he murmured. ”All right, old man. I thank you just the same. I presume I'll live, at the worst. And there's a bit in life besides what we want for ourselves, you know.”

”There's naught in life but what we're ready to take for oursilves!”

cried Battersleigh. ”I'll talk no fable of other fishes in the say for ye. Take what ye want, if ye'll have it. An' hearken; there's more to Ned Franklin than bein' a land agent and a petty lawyer. It's not for ye yersilf to sit an' mope, neyther to spind your life diggin' in a musty desk. Ye're to grow, man; ye're to grow! Do ye not feel the day an' hour? Man, did ye nivver think o' Destiny?”

”I've never been able not to believe in it,” said Franklin. ”To some men all things come easily, while others get on only by the hardest knocks; and some go always close to success, but die just short of the parapet. I haven't myself cla.s.sified, just yet.”

”Ye have your dreams, boy?”

”Yes; I have my dreams.”

”All colours are alike,” said Battersleigh. ”Now, whut is my young Injun savage doin', when he goes out alone, on top of some high hill, an' builds him a little fire, an' talks with his familiar spirits, which he calls here his 'drame'? Isn't he searchin' an' feelin' o'

himsilf, same as the haythin in far-away Ingy? Git your nose up, Ned, or you'll be unwittin' cla.s.sifyin' yersilf with the great slave cla.s.s which we lift behind not long ago, but which is follyin' us hard and far. Git your nose up, fer it's Batty has been thinkin' ye've Destiny inside your skin. Listen to Batty the Fool, and search your sowl.

I'll tell ye this: I've the feelin' that I'll be hearin' of ye, in all the marrches o' the worrld. Don't disappoint me, Ned, for the ould man has belaved in ye--more than ye've belaved in yersilf. As to the gyurl--bah!--go marry her some day, av ye've nothin' more importhant on yer hands.

”But, me dear boy, spakin' o' importhant things, I ralely must be goin'

now. I've certain importhant preparations that are essintial before I get dhrunk this avenin'--”

”O Battersleigh, do be sensible,” said Franklin, ”and do give up this talk of getting drunk. Come over here this evening and talk with me.