The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1894-08-29
GRENBARAGH.

Shame 10 you, Denis sullivan. tnat Diack
Donohoe has grabbed the turf-bank you
and the Fox couldn't hould, an there's
news for you"
The man looked at him a moment in
silence. and then said harsh.y: An isn't
he welcome to the Guild bank. for all l
care? As well him have II as Fox But
what was Fox dom wild the gun? It's
some Of your lies. / supposer'
"A lieF said Patsy hotly. coming for
ward in wrath. and forgetting his weari-
ness. Never a lie in 1t! Dldn'i he take
his ould twO-bar'ld gun from under the
have his life an be hung for it?''
With a sudden movement Denis gripped
the lad by his ragged collar. and rising
TO his feet looked sternly down at the
excited face. Then he spoke slowly and
| impressively. Patsy, my son, ayther
you're dramin', an If you are ye'd best
wake up an spare breath in tellin' yer
drame, or F0x'll cut the life out Of you;
or if yer tellin truth-well, even so keep
a quiet tongue in yer head, and don't
get dacent man into trouble. God
knows there's enough widout your
4. meddhn'. Run away, boy, run away; an
forget you was ever inside a nile Of
GlenbaraghBeg this day." and giving
the lad two or three slow shakes he re-
leased him and turned into the cottage.
Two nights later the patrol lettering
along the Glenbaragh road In the half
dusk of twilight was aroused from the
lethargy with which it ordinarily made
It's rounds by two loud reports, either
from rifle or large bore shotgun, fol-
lowing in quick succession, and sound
ing in the direction of Glenbaragh-B
from which the constsbles were distant
something less than half mile. Five
minutes later they were on the scene
of tragedy striking In its dramatic ele-
ments.
The sun had set not only behind the
hills but into the sea beyond; the moon
had not yet risen. but the sky was cloud
less, and the night Gear with the linger-
ing Of a long twilight. A solitary can
die placed upon a chair snone feebly
through the open door Of Donohoe's cabin,
and in the broadening track of light
which slowly lost itself in the whiteness
of the night, and full In its path, stretch
ed a black shadow huddled up into a
shapeless heap, from one end of which
at thin dark line crept lesurely lightward
through the dust. Beyond, upon the road,
stood small turf-cart. on the shaft Of
which Depis Sullivan leaned, peering with
white face on the gathered blackness
while opposite. behind the bars leading
10 his pasture. Denis the Fox stared
stupidity al the gun he was slowly turn
ing over with shaking hands.
Where the light faded into the dust
of the road the constables paused. and as
| they halted Sullivan, rOusing himself.
cried sharply, Up the hill, Fox, you fool,
vacancy Denis the Fox stared at him for
reply; then across the road into the faint
track Of light, so dismaily divided by
! that tapering line Of blackness drawing
| ever closer to its open door, and with
a cry, half sob, half wall. he turned to-
| ward the mountain-tOo late.
To say that the whole country was
stirred feebly expresses the sensation
created The murder was not only cold
| ~ brutal. but, what was rare indeed in
agrartan crime, the criminal was taken
red-handed From the Causewdy TO
Cape Clear public opinion agreed for
| once, and Fox Sullivan went to his trial
| 4 doomed man.
The motive? Motive enough! Had not
| Donohoe ousted him from his holding in
| the turf-banlS, and had not Fox Sull-
van sworn revenge. though he died for
| IL? For though Patsy Quin tried to take
| Denis SulliVan's WCll-meant advice and
| keep a silent tongue, yet the police some
/ how got wind Of that scene at the pris-
| oner's cabin, and SO Patsy appeared on
| he table, and with much inward grief
| md outward perturbation told the story,
ell IT, perhaps with a degree more of
| heat and larger emphasis of force than
|. ne intended.
Your crown prosecutor is very seduc-
i've In his methods OF extracting evil
1ence, and motive was soon clear enough.
| Then as TO fact. Patsy identified the
"ould two-barld gun" he had described
| TO Denis Sullivan, and the constables
could swear to arresting the prisoner
with the still warm weapon in his hands.
But the chief interest centered in the
| evidence of Denis Sullivan as being that
| Of the witness first on the spot after the
cOmmittal OF the crime. Denis had
begged hard TO be excused appearing in
court Sure We saw II all yerselVes,
| gentlemen he said to the constable. Il
can say no more nor yeTSelVeS And
| isn't the man me own cousin. me faith
| er's brothers son, that you must go an
make me hang him; sure won't the whole
country howl 'informer' an stone
me, an the wife an the childer2 Don't
| ask me, gentlemen, don't ask me-" Then.
when he found the law obdurate, as in
| deed IL had TO be, he changed his ground.
well, then, mebbe / won't say all We
want o. me; jist let me alone. or yen
be dom yerselves a harm" But here he
was pinned on the dilemma that since
and could do the prosecution an injury,
| justice must put him in the witnsss-boX
| by force, lest a wrong fall on the pris-
oner. So with many a muttered and
| open eXecration Denis Sullivan took his
| place on the table.
The wary passage-at-arms between
counsel and the witness may be con-
| densed into the admitted narrative of
| the latter, drawn out of him piecemeal.
| and after much waste of time on the
der was committed he had started. at
an early hour to fetch a load of turf from
the village Of Mucklish, distant some
ten miles from Glenbaragh- Beg, the con-
tents of the load being partly for him
| self and partly drawn on behalf of tbe
| prisoner. And here the witness made
no secret that he resented bitterly the
| loss Of the burbank. which necessitated
| long journey, and heavily Increased
the cost Of the fuel. Questioned as 70
whether the prisoner was not injured
equally with himself, Sullivan hesitated
! for moment, and said cautiously that
Fox was a strong man." and could
stand it better than himself. He did not
go often to Mucklish. but when he did
| he made a day Of II, so that il was con
to four or maybe five" when he started
home. The road to Mucklish took a sud
den turn 10 the right Just beyond Dono-
hoes cabin, was uphill, and with high
land on either side, shutting out the
straight stretch toward the village which
lay along the hillside. II was dusk when
he neared This bend on the road not
black dark, but shutdown. with a flush
% twilight in the sky, darker under the
hill than most places because the hill
lay TO the west. but clear enough TO
know a man four or five perches away.
As ne reached the top OF the hill be-
yond the bend he heard shot close at
hand. then another. and for minute he
pulled up his cart and listened. but
heard nothing further then, jumping off
his cart, he led the pony round the bend
till he got near TO Donohoe's cottage,
when he saw the door open and light
streaming out with something lying