“My father left this place to me.” “Who says that? And who has forged the will?” asked Dr. Flint. “Them Kennedys; they hashed it up between ’em.” “They did, did they? You seem to know a great deal about it. Suppose you question Jimmy O’Neill. I think he’d be able to tell a different tale,” said Dod. “Jimmy O’Neill?” “Yes, it was he who brought the will to us,” Agnes informed him. “Didn’t Mr. Willett tell you that?” she asked. “He told me some cock and bull story about a will being made in an Injun camp, as if anybody’d believe that.” “It is true, anyway,” declared Agnes. “Have you the will?” “No,” the man growled, “the fool didn’t have it, after all. He’d have been set free by night if you’d ha’ let him be. I don’t see why you made all this fuss.” “Well,” said Dod, “there’s an old sayin’ about givin’ a dog a bad name, ye know, an’ we thought it was time Park was comin’ home.” Parker, who was now sitting up with his head in his hands, looked up drowsily. Agnes went toward him. “Have you the will?” she whispered. He shook his head. “No, I gave it to some one. I’m so sleepy I can’t talk.” His head dropped again. “It is strange where it has gone, then,” said Agnes, “for I know he had it when he left us; he told me so.” “Well, I ain’t got it, worse luck,” snapped Humphrey. “Then it don’t seem to me that there’s any use our settin’ around here,” said Dod. “As long as Park ain’t got nothin’ about him that ye want, ye’ll be willin’ we should take him home. Mebbe ye’d like us all to turn over any little thing we’ve got about us. Ye’ve mistaken yer callin’, Hump, ye’d ought a hev ben a pirate.” Muirhead turned on him in impotent rage, but Dod only laughed in his face. “I’ve not done with this yet,” said Humphrey. “I’ll admit I ain’t nothin’ agin Willett, specially as he saved my boy, an’ I thank him fur that act o’ hisn, but I’ve no call to be friendly with them Kennedys.” “Your niece here took keer o’ the young un like a mother, an’ gave him up with tears in her eyes even when she knew he was yours.” “What’s her tears to me! She’d no right to the boy; he’s mine. Maybe they’ll be tryin’ to steal him next.” “Ah, but yer a black-hearted scoundrel, Hump Muirhead,” said Dod, in wrath. “I’ve a mind to take a turn at givin’ ye a good lambastin’. I’ve threatened myself to do it this many a day, an’ I’d ha’ done it before now if ye hadn’t bore yer father’s name, pore misguided lad that he was.” Humphrey’s fist doubled up, but Dod faced him with a careless contempt. “Yer day o’ reckonin’s cornin’,” he went on, “an’ I’m a-settin’ waitin’ fur it. Come, lads, we’ll git out o’ this. I hope the next time we’re under this roof it’ll be to call on Mrs. Fergus Kennedy. Walkin’s the best thing to rouse Park, so bring him along, Doc, you an’ Tom.” And he marched out without further ado.