Slavin's at a run. There I found Mr. Craig and Nelson holding Sandy,
more than half drunk, back from Slavin, who, stripped to the shirt, was
coolly waiting with a taunting smile.

'Let me go, Mr. Craig,' Sandy was saying, 'I am a good Presbyterian. He
is a Papist thief; and he has my money; and I will have it out of the
soul of him.'

'Let him go, preacher,' sneered Slavin, 'I'll cool him off for yez. But
ye'd better hold him if yez wants his mug left on to him.'

'Let him go!' Keefe was shouting.

'Hands off!' Blaney was echoing.

I pushed my way in. 'What's up?' I cried.

'Mr. Connor,' said Sandy solemnly, 'it is a gentleman you are, though
your name is against you, and I am a good Presbyterian, and I can give
you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them; but yon's a thief, a
Papist thief, and I am justified in getting my money out of his soul.'

'But,' I remonstrated, 'you won't get it in this way.'

'He has my money,' reiterated Sandy.

'He is a blank liar, and he's afraid to take it up,' said Slavin, in a
low, cool tone.

With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him; but, without moving