“See him!” echoed Jack. “No—I didn’t need to see him! There’s th’ hole th’ stone was pried out of, an’ there’s th’ rail that was used fer a lever. Now who had hold o’ that rail? Ain’t Nolan th’ only enemy you’ve got in th’ world?” “Yes,” said Allan, in a low voice; “yes, I believe he is.” “An’ do you suppose a feller would lay fer you like that unless he had somethin’ ag’in you? I tell you, Dan Nolan’s hidin’ down there in the bushes somewhere, an’ lookin’ up here at us an’ swearin’ because he didn’t git you!” and Jack shook his fist impatiently at the horizon. “If I had him under my heel, I’d kill him like I would a snake!” Which, of course, Jack wouldn’t have done, but his honest Irish blood was boiling at this moment, and he said more than he meant. “Come on, boys,” he added, calming himself by a mighty effort, “we can’t ketch him now, but we’ll git th’ scoundrel yet!” and he started down the hill, a savage scowl still on his face. The incident had cast a shadow over the spirits of the gang, and they worked the rest of the afternoon in silence. Indeed, ever since Reddy’s accident, the gang had lacked that spirit of optimism and gaiety which had marked it; a new man had been taken on, but while he did Reddy’s work fairly well, he could not take Reddy’s place in the hearts of the men. Their day’s work lacked the savour which Reddy’s wit had given it, and they went home at night more weary than had been their wont. Jack saw, too, that their work had lost some of its alacrity, and yet he had no heart to find fault with them. But he took no more chances of Allan’s suffering any treacherous injury. He had talked the matter over with his wife, and between them, they had laid out a plan of action. Whenever possible, Jack kept Allan near him. When that was not possible, he took care that the boy should not be alone at any spot where his enemy could sneak up on him from behind. He knew if the boy was injured through any carelessness or lack of foresight on his part, he would never dare to go home again and face his wife! All of this was, of course, plain enough to Allan, and chafed him somewhat, for he did not want the rest of the gang to think him a baby who needed constant looking after. Besides, he had an honest reliance on his ability to look after himself. So, one day, he ventured to protest. “See here, Jack,” he said, “I’m not afraid of Dan Nolan. In fact, I think I’d be rather glad of the chance to meet him in a fair stand-up fight.” “An’ that’s just th’ chance he’ll never give ye,” retorted Jack. “I wouldn’t be afeerd o’ him, either, if he’d fight fair—I believe y’ could lick him. But he won’t fight fair. Th’ coward’ll hit y’ from behind, if he kin—an’ he’s waitin’ his chance. That’s his kind, as y’ ought t’ know by this time. Oh, if I could only ketch him!”