O'Halloran now raised his pistol, and levelled it at me. But the pleasure of his triumph had excited him; and, besides, he was shivering from head to foot, and his teeth were chattering. An accurate aim was impossible. His hand could scarcely hold the pistol, and his benumbed finger could scarcely pull the trigger. He fired, and the bullet passed through the sleeve of my coat, and close to the doctor's head. "Me boy," he cried, flinging down the pistol, "there's no ind to the obleegeetions you put me under! I owe ye me loife a second toime. Ye've seeved me from death by fraizing." CHAPTER XXXII. HOME AGAIN.--THE GROWLS OF A CONFIRMED GROWLER.--HOSPITALITY.--THE WELL-KNOWN ROOM.--VISION OF A LADY.--ALONE WITH MARION.--INTERCHANGE OF THOUGHT AND SENTIMENT.--TWO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN.--AN EVENING TO BE REMEMBERED.--THE CONVIVIALITY OF O'HALLORAN.--THE HUMORS OF O'HALLORAN, AND HIS BACCHIC JOY. We all hurried away from the ground as rapidly as possible, and soon reached the _Hotel de France_. It was small, stuffy, and rather close, but, to people in our half-frozen condition, the big Canadian stove was a blessing beyond words. O'Halloran seemed like an _habitue_ of the place, judging by the way he button-holed the landlord, and by the success with which he obtained "somethin' warrum" for the company. But the _Hotel de France_ was not a place where one might linger; and so, after waiting long enough to allow the heat of the Canadian stove to penetrate us, aided by the blended power of "somethin' warrum" --and long enough also to give oats to the horses, which, after all, must have had the worst of it--poor devils!--we started and dragged on to the town. All this time O'Halloran did not appear to have recognized Jack at all. On the drive out this might have been accounted for, but, in the _Hotel de France_, O'Halloran had a full and perfect inspection of him. If he did recognize him, it certainly did not appear in his manner. He exchanged words with Jack in a tone of hilarious cordiality, which did not seem as though he considered Jack an enemy; and Jack, who never failed to respond when greeted in such a way, met him more than halfway. It was evident that O'Halloran had not the smallest idea that Jack was that identical British officer whom he had expelled from his house. Of all the party the doctor seemed to have suffered most; and, on the journey back, he kept up one prolonged growl at me. I was fated, he said, to bring him bad luck, and I would be the death of him. Once before he had ridden all night in the storm for me; and now here was another fool's errand. He seemed inclined to consider it as a personal insult, and actually felt aggrieved because O'Halloran's bullet had not shattered my arm, or penetrated my brain. Thus he alternated between shivering and swearing all the way back.