Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's FortunesAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Juvenile fiction; Irish Americans -- Juvenile fiction
"Murder! how heavy it is!" thought Andy. "I didn't think it was half
as heavy. There must be a pound of bullets inside. Now," he said to
himself, "suppose a big thafe was to poke his dirty head in at the
winder and say, 'Give me all your money, or I'll break your head'--I'd
put up with the gun and point at him this way."
Here Andy brought the gun into position with some difficulty and put
his finger near the trigger.
"And I'd say," continued Andy, rehearsing his part, "'Jump down, you
thafe, or I'll put a bullet through your head.'"
At that unlucky moment his finger accidentally pulled the trigger, and
instantly there was a tremendous report, the noise being increased by
the shattering of the window panes by the bullet.
Probably the charge was too heavy, for the gun "kicked," and Andy, to
his astonishment, found himself lying flat on his back on the floor,
with the gun lying beside him.
"Oh, murder!" ejaculated the bewildered boy, "is it dead I am? Shure,
the divil's in the gun. What will the ould wimmen say? They'll think
it's bloody burglars gettin' into the house. Shure, I'll slip on my
pants, for they'll be coming to see what's happened."
He picked himself up, and slipped on his pants. He had scarcely got
them on when the trembling voice of Miss Priscilla was heard at the
door.
CHAPTER IX
WHAT FOLLOWED
The report of the gun, as may be supposed, had aroused both the ladies
from their sleep.
"Did you hear it?" ejaculated Miss Priscilla, clutching her sister by
the arm.
"Just so," muttered Sophia, in bewilderment. "It's the gun."
"Burglars!" exclaimed Sophia, in alarm.
"I am afraid so. What shall we do?"
"Run away," suggested Sophia.
"No, we must not leave the boy to be murdered."
"Perhaps he has shot them?" said Sophia, with a gleam of hope.
"At any rate, it is our duty to go and see what has happened."
"I'm afraid," whimpered Sophia, covering up her head.
"Then you can stay here," said the more courageous Priscilla. "I will
go."
"And leave me alone?"
"I must."
"I'll go too, then," said Sophia, her teeth chattering with fear.
So they crept out of bed, and throwing shawls over their shoulders,
advanced into the entry, trembling with excitement and fear.
"If we should find Andy weltering in his gore?" suggested Priscilla.
"Don't say such horrid things, or I shall scream," said her sister.
Then came the tremulous knock mentioned at the close of the last
chapter.
Andy opened the door in person, and met the gaze of the two Miss
Grants, Sophia almost ready to drop with fright.
"Do you see any gore, Priscilla?" she asked, tremulously.
"Are you hurt, Andrew?" asked the elder sister.
"No, ma'am."
"Did you fire the gun?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What made you? Did any burglars try to get in?"
"Not exactly, ma'am," said Andy; "but I thought there might be some."
"Did you see any?"
"Not exactly," said Andy, a little embarrassed; "but I heard a noise."
"Just so," said Sophia.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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