The Heritage of Dedlow Marsh | Page 8

to her!--in County Clare, and me sisthers in
Ninth Avenue in New York, fornint the daypo, that is brekken their
harruts over me listin' in the Fourth Infanthry to do duty in a haythen
wilderness. Av it was the cavalry--and it's me own father that was in
the Innishkillen Dthragoons, Miss--oi wouldn't moind. Wid a horse
betune me legs, it's on parade oi'd be now, Miss, and not wandhering
over the bare flure of the Marsh, stharved wid the cold, the thirst, and
hunger, wid the mud and the moire thick on me; facin' an illigant young
leddy as is the ekal ov a Fayld Marshal's darter--not to sphake ov
Kernal Preston's--ez couldn't hold a candle to her."
Brought up on the Spanish frontier, Maggie Culpepper was one of the
few American girls who was not familiar with the Irish race. The rare
smile that momentarily lit up her petulant mouth seemed to justify the
intruder's praise. But it passed quickly, and she returned dryly:
"That means you want more drink, suthin' to eat, and clothes. Suppose
my brother comes back and ketches you here?"
"Shure, Miss, he's just now hunten me, along wid his two haythen
Diggers, beyond the laygoon there. It worr the yellar one that sphotted

me lyin' there in the ditch; it worr only your own oiyes, Miss--more
power to their beauty for that!--that saw me folly him unbeknownst
here; and that desaved them, ye see!"
The young girl remained for an instant silent and thoughtful.
"We're no friends of the Fort," she said finally, "but I don't reckon for
that reason my brother will cotton to YOU. Stay out thar where ye are,
till I come to ye. If you hear me singin' again, you'll know he's come
back, and ye'd better scoot with what you've already got, and be
thankful."
She shut the door again and locked it, went into the dining-room,
returned with some provisions wrapped in paper, took a common
wicker flask from the wall, passed into her brother's bedroom, and
came out with a flannel shirt, overalls, and a coarse Indian blanket, and,
reopening the door, placed them before the astonished and delighted
vagabond. His eye glistened; he began, "Glory be to God," but for once
his habitual extravagance failed him. Nature triumphed with a more
eloquent silence over his well-worn art. He hurriedly wiped his
begrimed face and eyes with the shirt she had given him, and catching
the sleeve of her rough pea-jacket in his dirty hand, raised it to his lips.
"Go!" she said imperiously. "Get away while you can."
"Av it vas me last words--it's speechless oi am," he stammered, and
disappeared over the railing.
She remained for a moment holding the door half open, and gazing into
the darkness that seemed to flow in like a tide. Then she shut it, and
going into her bedroom resumed her interrupted toilette. When she
emerged again she was smartly stockinged and slippered, and even the
blue serge skirt was exchanged for a bright print, with a white fichu
tied around her throat. An attempt to subdue her rebellious curls had
resulted in the construction from their ruins of a low Norman arch
across her forehead with pillared abutments of ringlets. When her
brother returned a few moments later she did not look up, but remained,
perhaps a little ostentatiously, bending over the fire.

"Bob allowed that the Fort boat was huntin' MEN--deserters, I reckon,"
said Jim aggrievedly. "Wanted me to believe that he SAW one on the
Marsh hidin'. On'y an Injin lie, I reckon, to git a little extra fire-water,
for toting me out to the bresh on a fool's errand."
"Oh, THAT'S where you went!" said Maggie, addressing the fire.
"Since when hev you tuk partnership with the Guv'nment and Kernel
Preston to hunt up and take keer of their property?"
"Well, I ain't goin' to hev such wreckage as they pick up and enlist set
adrift on our marshes, Mag," said Jim decidedly.
"What would you hev done had you ketched him?" said Maggie,
looking suddenly into her brother's face.
"Given him a dose of snipe-shot that he'd remember, and be thankful it
wasn't slugs," said Jim promptly. Observing a deeper seriousness in her
attitude, he added, "Why, if it was in war-time he'd get a BALL from
them sodgers on sight."
"Yes; but YOU ain't got no call to interfere," said Maggie.
"Ain't I? Why, he's no better than an outlaw. I ain't sure that he hasn't
been stealin' or killin' somebody over theer."
"Not that man!" said Maggie impulsively.
"Not what man?" said her brother, facing her quickly.
"Why," returned Maggie, repairing her indiscretion with feminine
dexterity, "not ANY man who might have knocked you and me over on
the marshes in the dusk, and