The sentiment was applaudingly echoed and the drinks very quickly absorbed. Among others, one whom McKenna had heard called Tom Hurley, came up and congratulated the victor, hoping he had received no serious hurts. “Oh! nothing but a wee flea-bite on me smeller,” answered McKenna, “which by the mornin’ will be all correct again! A scrimmage like this every avenin’ in the wake, would only jist give me jints nadeful exercise!” Thus ended the detective’s first experience in the amateur prize-ring. ————●———— CHAPTER IX. DORMER UNDER INVESTIGATION. Kelly soon returned to the saloon, reporting his principal in the late encounter as well as, under the circumstances, he could expect to be, and hinting that, as far as he was concerned, he was eager to resume friendly relations with McKenna, who, he very frankly acknowledged, “wur quite in the right, an’ Frazer far in the wrong!” This proved enough to warm the heart of the operative toward the second of his recent adversary, and the two men, left to themselves, at once inaugurated a close intimacy. After another jig, to the lively tune of the “White Cockade”—suggested by McKenna for a purpose, and which the fiddler, already fast asleep and unmusically snoring, prone upon a bench, was awakened to execute—the detective called all hands once more to the bar, and, through the use of a little legerdemain, filling his tumbler half full of water—but his friends meanwhile thinking it undiluted gin—he proposed: “Here’s to ‘the power that makes English landlords tremble!’ Here’s confusion to all the inimies of ould Ireland!” Tom Hurley, who had been one of Kelly’s partisans, enthusiastically thumped him on the shoulder and answered: “Hurrah! Them’s the sentiments! Let all here drink to ’em!” Hurley, Dormer, and Kelly, with the detective, and the remainder of the assemblage, drained their goblets in silence. McKenna, who was on the alert, thought he noticed a communicative wink passing between Kelly and Dormer, but not a syllable was uttered to inform him whether he had hit upon anything of importance in employing his well-remembered toast—first heard at Tremont. No language having the sound of a legitimate response to it was he enabled to distinguish. In a short time, however, Kelly came over to him with a whispered request to repair to the little sitting-room. He obeyed, and, as he followed to that place, he found himself discussing in his own mind what might now be in store for him—what would prove the result of the impending interview. He was not fearful—but anticipated taking whatever came with as good a grace as possible. After occupying their seats, his companion remarked: “Didn’t I see you at Minersville, not long ago, in company with Hugh Mahan?” “Sure, an’ may be you did! You might as well as not, at laste, fur I war wid him, at that place, only the last month sometime!”