rose in a tumult of triumph to heights of bliss inexpressible, save by a
series of ear-piercing but altogether rapturous shrieks.

"They're down! They're down!" screamed Margaret, dancing in an ecstasy
of joy, while hand over hand down posts, catching at braces, slipping,
sliding, springing, the men of both sides kept dropping from incredible
distances to the ground. Suddenly through all the tumultuous shouts of
victory a heart-rending scream rang out, followed by a shuddering groan
and dead silence. One-half of Rory's purlin plate slipped from its
splicing, the pin having been neglected in the furious haste, and
swinging free, fell crashing through the timbers upon the scurrying,
scrambling men below. On its way it swept off the middle bent Rory, who
was madly entreating a laggard to drop to the earth, but who, flung by
good fortune against a brace, clung there. On the plate went in its path
of destruction, missing several men by hairs' breadths, but striking
at last with smashing cruel force across the ankle of poor little Ben
Fallows, in the act of sliding down a post to the ground. In a moment
two or three men were beside him. He was lifted up groaning and
screaming and carried to an open grassy spot. After some moments of
confusion Barney was seen to emerge from the crowd and hurry after his
horse. A stretcher was hastily knocked together, a mattress and pillow
placed thereon, to which Ben, still groaning piteously, was tenderly
lifted.

"I'll go wid ye," said Tom Magee, throwing on his coat and hat.

Before they drove out of the yard the little Englishman pulled himself
together. "Stop a bit, Barney," he said. He beckoned Rory to his side.
"Tell them," he said between his gasps, "not to spoil their supper for
me. I cawn't heat my share, but I guess perhaps I hearned it."