"Do what ye please for the five hours, McTee, but give me the room I need for breathin'. D'ye hear? Otherwise I'll be forgettin' me promises."

"Do I hear ye?" answered McTee, snarling. "Aye, growl while you may.

I'll stop that throat of yours for good--tonight."

He turned on his heel, and the two men separated. Harrigan struck with a long swing out over a road which led into the rolling fields near the little town. He walked rapidly, and his thoughts kept pace, for he was counting his chances to win Kate as a miser counts his h.o.a.rd of gold.

Two pictures weighed large in his mind. One was of Kate at ease in the home of the Spaniard. Such ease would never be his; she came from another social world--a higher sphere. The second picture was of McTee climbing down from the wireless house and calmly a.s.suming command of the mutineers in the crisis. Such a maneuver would never have occurred to the Irishman, and it was only through that maneuver that the ship had been brought to sh.o.r.e, for nothing save the iron will of McTee could have directed the mutineers.

When the sun hung low, he turned and strode back toward the village, and despair trailed him like his shadow.

He began to see clearly now what he had always feared. She loved McTee--McTee, who spoke clear, pure English, when he chose, and who could talk of many things. She loved McTee, but she dared not avow that love for fear of infuriating Harrigan and thereby risking the life of the Scotchman. It grew plainer and plainer. With the thought of Kate came another, far different, and yet blending one with another. When he reached the village, it was still a short time before sunset. He went straight to the British consulate and entered, for he had reached the solution of his puzzle.

"My name's Harrigan," he said to the little man with the sideburns and the studious eyes, "and I've come to know if the old country has sent for volunteers. I want to go over."

"The old country," said the consul, "has called for volunteers, and I have discovered a means of sending our boys across the water; but"--and here he examined Harrigan shrewdly--"but it's an easy thing to take an Irish name. How am I to know you're not a German, my friend? I've never seen you before."

Harrigan swelled.

"A German? Me?" he muttered, and then, his head tilted back: "Ye little wan-eyed, lantern-jawed, flat-headed block, is it me--is it Harrigan ye call a German? Shtep out from behind the desk an' let me see av you're a man!"

Strangely enough, the consul did not seem irritated by this outburst.

He was, in fact, smiling. Then his hand went out to the Irishman.

"Mr. Harrigan," he said, "I'm honored by knowing you."

Harrigan stared and accepted the hand with caution; there was still battle in his eyes.

"And can you send me over?" he asked doubtfully.

"I can. As I said before, we've raised a small fund for just this purpose."

He drew out a piece of paper and commenced taking down the particulars of Harrigan's name and birth and other details. Then a short typewritten note signed by the consul ended the interview. He gave Harrigan directions about how he could reach a shipping agent on the eastern coast, handed over the note, and the Irishman stepped out of the little office already on his way to the world war. He took no pleasure in his resolution, but wandered slowly back toward the hotel with downward head. He would speak a curt farewell and step out of the lives of the two. It would be very simple unless McTee showed some exultation, but if he did--Here Harrigan refused to think further.

It was well after sunset when he crossed the veranda, and at the door he found McTee striding up and down.

"Harrigan," said McTee.

"Well?", growled Harrigan.

"Stand over here close to me, and keep your face shut while I'm speaking. It won't take me long."

The words were insulting enough, but the voice which spoke them was sadly subdued.

"Listen," said McTee. "What I've got to say is harder for me to do than anything I've ever done in my life. So don't make me repeat anything.

Harrigan, I've tried to beat you by fair means or foul ever since we met--ever since you saved my hide in the Ivilei district of Honolulu.

I've tried to get you down, and I've failed. I fought you"--here he ground his teeth in agony--"and you beat me."

"It was the bucking of the deck that beat you," put in Harrigan.

"Shut up till I'm through or I'll wring your neck and break your back!

I've failed to down you, Harrigan. You beat me on the Mary Rogers. You made a fool of me on the island. And on the Heron--"

He paused again, breathing hard.

"On the _Heron_, it was you who brought us food and water when we were dying. And afterward, when Henshaw died, I jumped out before the mutineers and took command of them because I thought I could win back in Kate's mind any ground which I'd lost before. I paraded the deck before her eyes; I gave commands; I was the man of the hour; I was driving the _Heron_ to the sh.o.r.e in spite of the fire."

"You were," admitted Harrigan sadly. "It was a great work you did, McTee. It was that which won her--"

"But even when I was in command, you proved yourself the better man, Harrigan."

The Irishman leaned back against the wall, gasping, weak with astonishment.

McTee went on: "I paraded the deck; I made a play to make her admire me, and for a while I succeeded, until the time came when you were carried up to the deck too weak to keep the men at work in the fireroom. Ah, Harrigan, that was a great moment to me. I said to Kate: 'Harrigan has done well, but of course he can't control men--his mind is too simple.'"

"Did you say that?" murmured Harrigan, and hatred made his voice soft, almost reverent.

"I did, and I went on: 'I suppose I'll have to go down there and drive the lads back to their work.' So down I went, but you know what happened. They wouldn't work for me. They stood around looking stupid at me and left me alone in the fireroom, and I had to come back on deck, in the sight of Kate, and rouse you out of your sleep and beg you to go back and try to make the lads keep at their work. And you got up to your knees, struggling to get back your consciousness! And you staggered to your feet, and you called to the firemen who lay senseless and sick on the deck around you--sick for sleep--and when they heard you call, they got up, groaning, and they reeled after you back to their work in the fireroom, and some of them dragged themselves along on their hands and knees. Oh, G.o.d!"

He struck his clenched fist across his eyes.

"And all the time I was watching the awe and the wonder come up like a fire in the eyes of Kate, while she looked after you."

Harrigan watched him with the same stupid amazement.

"Harrigan," said McTee at last, "you've won her. When I walked out by myself today, I saw that I was the only obstacle between her and her happiness. She doesn't dare tell you she loves you, for fear that I'll try to kill you. So I've decided to step out from between--I _have_ stepped out! I'm going back to Scotland and get into the war. If I have fighting enough, I can forget the girl, maybe, and you! I've talked to the British consul already, and he's given me a note that will take me over the water. So, Harrigan, I've merely come to say good-by to you-- and you can say good-by for me to Kate."

"Wait," said Harrigan. "There are a good many kinds of fools, but a Scotch fool is the worst of all. Take that paper out of your pocket and tear it up. Ah-h, McTee, ye blind man! Can't ye see that gir-rl's been eatin' out her hear-rt for the love av ye, d.a.m.n your eyes? Can't ye see that the only thing that keeps her from throwin' her ar-rms around your neck is the fear of Harrigan? Look!"

He pulled out the note which the consul had given him.

"I've got the same thing you have. I'm going to go over the water. I tell you, I've seen her eyes whin she looked at ye, McTee, an' that's how I know she loves ye. Tear up your paper! A blight on ye! May ye have long life and make the girl happy--an' rot in h.e.l.l after!"

"By G.o.d," said McTee, "we've both been thinking the same thing at the same time. And maybe we're both wrong. Kate said she had something to say to us. Let's see her first and hear her speak."

"It'll break my heart to hear her confess she loves ye, McTee--but I'll go!"

They went to the sleepy clerk behind the desk and asked him to send up word to Miss Malone that they wished to see her.

"Ah, Miss Malone," said the clerk, nodding, "before she left--"

"Left?" echoed the two giants in voices of thunder.

"She gave me this note to deliver to you."

And he pa.s.sed them the envelope. Each of them placed a hand upon it and stared stupidly at the other.

"Open it!" said Harrigan hoa.r.s.ely.

"I'm troubled with my old failing--a weakness of the eyes," said McTee.

"Open it yourself."