The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-06-22

Jamesy Doyle, who was light of foot an
without shoe or stocking, rushed forward, say
ing, Sergeant I'll follow him to the end .
sped onward like deer.
"Come, Maher," said the Sergeant we'll pun
sue however hopeless. Cotter, let you sto
with the prisoner we have, and the young VIC
man and let Donovan stop with the wounde
man, and stop the blood if he cau."
Sergeant Driscoll and Maher then started q
the top of their speed, in the track of James
Doyle, in foil pursuit.
There were many Turns and twists in tn
pass between the mountains. 1t was like
dozen large letter SIS strung together.
Driscoll stopped for moment to listen
two of the turns. and they could not hear tn
horse galloping now.
Calls lost" said the sergeant; she's clear
gone Let us hasten on until We meet the boy
| perhaps he knows which road he took"
Jamesy had been STOPPING now and then
and pcering into the coming light, to KEEP
we'll in view the man whom he pursued Ay
there he was, sure enough lie saw him, al
most plainly, galioping at the top of his speed
Suddenly he heard a crash, and horse and ri
der rolled upon the ground.
rushing forward with some hope, and peering
| into the distance. Presently he saw the horse
trot with his head and tail in the air, with
ont its rider, while a dark mass lay in the CEN
tire of the road.
"You couldn't have betther luck, you blood
thirsty ruffian, you'll" said Jamesy, who thought
that it was heavens lightning that, in justice
had struck down Tom Murdoch and he main
present, however, he had not time to philoso
phize upon the thought, but rushed on
Soon he came to the dark mass upon the
road. 1t was Tom Murdoch who lay there
stunned and insensible, but not seriously hurt
by the fall. There was nothing of heavens
lightning in the matter at all. It was the
common come-down of stumbling horse
upon u bad mountain road /; but the result was
the same.
Janesy was proceeding to thank God again,
and to tie his legs, when Tom came to.
last little longer, that he might have tied
him, legs and arms with his own handkerchief
and suspenders. But he was late now, and
was not sure that Tom Murdoch would not
murder him also, and "makc off afoot."
Here Jamesy thoughthe heard the hurried
step of the police coming round the last turn
toward him, and as Tom was struggling to his
feet, a bright thought struck him. He "whipt"
out penknife he had in his pocket, and before
Tom had sufficiently recovered to know what
he was about, he had cut his suspenders, and
given the waist-band of his trousers q slip of
the knife, opening it more than o foot down
the back.
Tom had now sufficiently recovered to I'M
derstand what had happened, and to know the
strait he was in. He had short time before
barn in c. o. s. ]; and if he did not roar lus-
tily, "a horse, horse! my kingdom for a
horse" he thought it. But his horse was near
ly half mile away, where green spot upon
the roadside tempted him to delay little Ion
ger his journey home.
Tom was not yet aware of the approach of
the police. He made desperate swipe of his
boy. and sprung to his feet But Jamesy
avoided the blow by a side jump, and kept
roaring, Police. police" at the top of his
voice. Tom now found that he had been out
cred by his loose trousers about his heels that
he could make no run for it, and soon became
the prisoner of Sergeant Driscol and his COM
panion. Well done, Jamesy!
CHAPTER XXX.
While the above exploits were being per-
formed by Jamesy Doyle and the police, a sad
scene indeed was being enacted at the bridge
Winny Cavana whose bonds had been loosed
had rushed to where Enron lay with his head
in his fathers lap, while the two policemen,
Cotter and Donovan, moved up with their pris-
oner. They not only handcuffed him, but had
tied his legs together, and threw him on the
side of the road, to " wait their convenience"
while they rendered any assistance thew could
to the wounded man.
The father had succeeded in staunching the
blood, which at first had poured freely from
the wound. With the assistance of one of the
police, while the other was tying the prisoner,
lie had drawn his son up in sitting posture,
and leaned him against the bank at the side of
the road, and got his arm round him to sus-
tain him; He was not shot dead; but was ev-
identity badly wounded. He was now, how
ever, recovering strength and consciousness |
as the blood ceased to flow.
"Open your eyes, Enron dear, and look at |
your own Winny," she said your mad Win
ny Cavana who brought you here to be muir
lered Open your eyes, Enron, if you are not |
lead! don'C ask you to speak,"
Emon not only opened his eyes, but turned |
his face and looked upon her. Oh! the ghast-
y smile he tried to hide!
Don't speak Emon but tell ME with your
yes that you are not dying. No, no, Emon-I
smon-akuock! demon as he is, be could not |
murder you. Heaven would not permit so |
much wickedness."
Enron looked at her again. A faint but
beautiful smlle-beautiful now, for the color
lad returned to his cheeks-beamed upon his
ips as he shook his head.
listi acted father ; I" and 1 pity you Winny
'avana, as hope you will pity his poor
mother; to say nothing of myself"
-" No, no, do not say so! He will not die, he
hall not die!' And she pressed her burning ii,s
o his marble forehead. 1t as smooth as ala
'aster, cold as ice.
Windy Ca-va-na, good bye" he family
reathed in her ear. "My days, my hours, my
cry moments ale numbered. 1 feel death
in every vain in every nerve i
ould-could-h ave-lived for you-Winny
ut even-to die for you-is-a blessing. DC.
ause-suc cessful. One last request-Winng,
" best beloved, is-all-I have-to ask
pare me-a spot in Rathcash chapel. ward in
Tod 20 tta