In the morning, early, McAndrew and Maguire clambered down the ladder and awakened the rest with demands for beer. They were very thirsty. McKenna arose, gave the old lady her clothes, and she was soon ready to wait upon them. The detective noticed that she took her half gallon measure from beneath the foot of her bed, threw something that it contained out at the door, and then filled it half full of beer from the keg. But he said nothing of this to his companions. “I belave I’ll take a sip o’ gin,” said the Secretary, as the Bodymaster and Maguire, in turn, drank deeply of the malt liquor. “I always try and get gin for my morning dram!” This liquor was in a small bottle and clear and genuine. The beer he could not relish, considering the use to which the tin vessel in which it stood had been put during the night. It was not until they had reached Shenandoah that McKenna informed his comrades of the sickening circumstance. Their stomachs were in such a peculiarly sensitive condition at the time, that a few explanatory words caused them to revolt. As a consequence both men were very sick. “Sea-sickness was no name for it,” they said. It chanced well for McKenna that, on this very day, and before Maguire and McAndrew recovered their appetites and their strength, he was compelled to go to another part of the county and remain during several nights. When he returned Maguire was away at his home and McAndrew had forgiven him. “Faith, an’ ye know well enough, it would have been both mane an’ uncivil for me to say anythin’ of it before the kind old couple!” was all the excuse the operative could offer. Not one of the three men drank ale at Mike Casey’s house after that.