faces now clogged his blood, and made his tongue dumb.
“Jimmie,” said Ted, “you hear what they’re sayin’ of yer? Give them the lie, lad, an’ I’ll take it through fur you. I’ll take it through on them all if you’ll tell ’em, Jimmie.”
“What would you have him tell?” said Conlon in contempt. “He fleeced the poor old beggar right and left, and then tried to put the blame on you. D’you think we’re fools that we can’t see that?”
“He never did! Jimmie, you must stand up to it now! Tell ’em, lad. Tell ’em it’s lies—lies! We’ll take it through together, Jim!”
The firelight was full on Ted’s drawn anxious face, and flickering on the faces around. To Lou it was very funny that unbuttoned shirts and half-clothed bodies should belong to those faces. For they were purely savage in their just anger. Jimmie was glancing round with swift hunted eyes; but still he did not speak.
“Musha, it’s the foine hayro an’ all he is,” said Tod. “Is it for a wake ould man only that ye have an answer on ye, me boyo?”
“Jimmie, haven’t yer a word in yer, man? For God’s sake give him that in his teeth!”
Jimmie opened his lips; but no sound came, and only Lou was beating a little time on the back of his hand with his pipe-bowl.
“Jimmie!”
