The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1921-12-01

denly became conscious that Michael
and Christopher had fallen behind.
de turned round.
"Come on. Come on with me-"
But the two shook their heads.
ITS not fitting, you Calhoun of
Playmore Christopher answered.
"Well. then. listen to me-" said
Dyck. for he saw the men could not
bear his new democracy. I'm hun
cry. In four years | haven't had a
meal that came from the right place
or went to the right spot. Is the lit
tie tavern, the Hen and Chicken, on
the Liffeyside, still golng7 mean
the place where the seamen and the
workmanship officers visit"
Michael nodded.
well, look you Mlchael-get you
both there, and order me as good
meal of fish and chops and baked
pudding as can be bought for money.
Aye, and I'll have a bottle of red
French wine and you two will have
what you like best. Mark me, we'll
sit together there, for we're one of
kind. I've got to take to life TINT
fits me, an ex-jailbird, man that's
been In prison for killIng!"
'There's the kings army" said
Michael. "They make good officers In
It,"
A strange, half-sore smile came to
Dyck's thin lips.
Michael" said he, give up these
vain Illusions. was condemned for
killing n man not In fair fight | cant
enter the army as nm officer. and you
should know 1t. The king himself
could set me up again; but the dis
lance between him and me Is ten times
round the world and back again No.
my friends, what Is In my mind now
Is that I'm hungry. For four years
I've eaten the bread of prison, and
it's soured my mouth and CALLED my
belly. Go you to that inn and make
ready good NEAL
The two men started TO leave, but
old Christopher turned round and
stretched hand up and out.
"Son of Ireland, bright aud black
ture of your life, but | see for you
brightness and sweet faces, and music
and song. It's not Irish music and It's
not Irish song. but the soul of the
thing is Irish. Grim things await you.
but you will conquer where the eagle
SWAPS TO the shore where the white
mist fees from the hills. where heroes
meet. where the hand of Moyra stirs
the blue and the witches flee from the
voice of God. There is honor coming
to you In the world"
Having said his say. with hand out
stretched, having thrilled the air with
the voice of one who had the soul of
a prophet, the old man turned With
aead bent forward, he shuffied away
with Michael Clones along the stony
street.
Dyck watched them go. his heart
beating hard. his spirit overwhelmed.
1t WAS not far he walked, yet every
footstep had n history. Now and
again he met people who knew him
Some bowed a little too profoundly,
SOi1P nbuueu nut npt ufE stbpptu 10
speak TO him, though few among
them were people he had known we'll
In days gone by. Wns 1t the clothes
he wore, or was II that his star had
sunk so low that none could keep II
company? He laughed to himself In
scorn.
At the door of the inn he shifted
the dinner Michael had ordered.
Man alive" he said as he entered
the place and saw the two men with
their hands against the bright fire.
There's only one way to live, and
that's the way I'm going TO try"
We'll, you'll not try 1t alone, sir. If
you please" said Michael. "l'll be
with you, II may
And I'll bless you as you CO. said
christopher Dogan.
ITO be continued)