Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: "Next battle there is you won't find me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I'd sooner have the old man's sledge. It don't miss fire." His eye brightened as he thought of Macdonald. "Say," he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his shoulder, "the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?"

"He is," said Yates, "but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?"

"Oh, well, you see," said Sandy apologetically, "it don't come as natural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody's got to swear. The old man's converted, you know."

"Ah, hasn't he backslid yet?"

"No, he hasn't. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, but it didn't; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little cussing,--not that anyone can cuss like the boss,--he'll pull through.

I think he'll stick this time. You'd ought to have seen him wading into them d--d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing 'Onward, Christian soldiers.' Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was a sight. He bowled 'em over like nine-pins. You ought to 'a' been there."

"Yes," said Yates regretfully. "I missed it, all on account of that accursed Stoliker. Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, but I'll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I'll let you know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of tobacco that you ever put your teeth into."

Sandy's eyes glittered. "Bless you!" was all he could say, as he bit off a corner of the offered plug.

"You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I thought you were out."

"I haven't had a bite all day. That's the trouble with leaving in a hurry."

"Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back and interview those fellows. There's no time to be lost."

When they reached the group, Macdonald said:

"Here's a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, and that you will vouch for him."

Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, yet fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New York _Blade_. This was even worse than he had antic.i.p.ated.

"h.e.l.lo, Jimmy!" he said, "how did you get here?"

"I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face."

"Whose a--fool?" cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. He boggled slightly as he came to the "adjective," but got over it safely.

It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and cursed Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent of profanity. Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, not knowing that he was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, wondering how he had attained such proficiency in malediction; for, like all true artists, he was quite unconscious of his own merit in that direction.

"Tell this hammer wielder that I'm no anvil. Tell him that I'm a newspaper man, and didn't come here to fight. He says that if you guarantee that I'm no Fenian he'll let me go."

Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do a favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, but he never forgot the fact that business was business.

"I can't conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy," said Yates soothingly.

"How am I to know you are not a Fenian?"

"Bosh!" cried Hawkins angrily. "Conscientiously? A lot you think of conscience when there is an item to be had."

"We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy," continued Yates feelingly. "We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling a lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don't you, Mr. Macdonald? You would not advise me to a.s.sert a thing I was not sure of, would you?"

"Certainly not," said the blacksmith earnestly.

"You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me," cried the indignant _Blade_ man. "You know very well I'm not a Fenian."

"Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?"

"What's your game?" asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival's dilemma.

"My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent over the wires to the _Argus_. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. When the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will save you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without prejudice, as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be the ultimate end of all the _Blade_ staff.

"Look here, Yates; play fair. Don't run in any conscientious guff on a prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years."

"Yes, and little have you profited by a n.o.ble example. It is your knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out of your hole without due consideration."

"Are you willing to make a bargain?

"Always--when the balance of trade is on my side."

"Well, if you give me a fair start, I'll give you some exclusive information that you can't get otherwise."

"What is it?"

"Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, d.i.c.k."

"That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven't you something more attractive to offer?"

"Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the fight written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a telegraph wire. I'll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, if you will get me out of this hole, as you call it. I'll give you permission to use the information in any way you choose, if you will extricate me, and all I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraph office."

Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy," he finally said. "I'll buy that account from you, and give you more money than the _Blade_ will. And when I get back to New York I'll place you on the staff of the _Argus_ at a higher salary than the _Blade_ gives you--taking your own word for the amount."

"What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely."

"Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow."

"Perhaps. But it won't be sold by me. I'll burn my copy before I will let you have a glimpse of it. That don't need to interfere with your making me an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; but while my paper depends on me, I won't go back on it."

"Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always was weak where the interests of the _Argus_ were concerned. You haven't any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?"

"I have, but I won't lend it."

Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff.

"Now, Mac," he said, "tell me all you saw of this fight."

The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark on his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the materials for that excellent full-page account "by an eyewitness" that afterward appeared in the columns of the _Argus_. He had a wonderful memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts they were giving Yates, but the _Argus_ man said nothing, merely setting down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, which Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When he had got all he wanted, he rose.

"Shall I send you help, Mac?" he asked.

"No," said the smith; "I think I'll take these fellows to the shop, and hold them there till called for. You can't vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr.

Yates?"

"Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always seem to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you'll enjoy life down at Mac's shop. It's the best place I've struck since I've been in the district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you.