disgrace at headquarters and there was a chance that he would be removed from his office as County Delegate of Schuylkill, and never receive any more “goods” for the divisions, simply because he had, in a fit of anger, loudly cursed the Bishop and the holy Church of Rome. All agreed that Barney should have been more respectful, and in using such language had richly merited the punishment of expulsion for life. McKenna, the detective’s namesake, was a young man, above the average in intelligence, but loved his dram as well as any of his countrymen in that vicinity. Fisher had been tax-collector of the county, with other fat positions, and was considered the big man of the Mollies in Carbon County. The detective’s kinsman was even at that early day suspected of having been engaged as a principal in the murder of Morgan Powell, and Pat very naturally became an object of interest and a person whose company McKenna wanted to keep. That young man was at first rather shy, but a few songs and dances, some drinks, and a distant cousinship once having been discovered, the heart of the real McKenna gradually warmed toward the party bearing, for the time being, the same name. The companionship was kept up for some days, and finally the detective was invited to McKenna’s residence and introduced to all of his relatives, girls and women, boys and men. There he made himself comfortable for a short time. He was also quite welcome, because of the stories he told the women, and the drinks he gave the men, while with the younger crop of McKennas he was a great favorite from his lessons in dancing and singing. During the latter portion of June, bidding farewell to Summit Hill and its inhabitants, and promising to call again some day—an engagement that he was determined to fulfill—the detective thought to return to Luzerne, but stopping over at Hazelton, during his stay he was invited to attend a dance and raffle at Buck Mountain, and accepted. The chances were only a dollar, and the article to be won by somebody was a brass clock, the property of a widow woman named Breslin. The lady in question kept a shebeen-shop on the mountain, and her husband had, some months before, been killed in the mine by the sudden falling of a pillar near which he was at work. Tickets were for sale in every saloon in Hazelton, and having procured one, McKenna started, in company with some thirty or forty Mollies, to walk to Buck Mountain. At least more than half the distance, from the steepness of the ascent, had to be made on foot, as no vehicle could be drawn up by horse or mule. The party was held upon the grounds surrounding Mrs. Breslin’s mansion—if mansion it could be called, consisting, as it did, of one small room—and the company was as miscellaneous as it was numerous, there being several hundred men, women, and girls in attendance. But all could be accommodated, as there were plenty of torches, any amount of level earth, and seven or eight fiddlers to furnish the music.