MALACHI

"He'll swing just the same to-morrow. Exit Malachi!" said Freddy Tarlton
gravely.

The door suddenly opened on the group of gossips, and a man stepped
inside and took the only vacant seat near the fire. He glanced at none,
but stretched out his hands to the heat, looking at the coals with
drooping introspective eyes.

"Exit Malachi," he said presently in a soft ironical voice, but did not
look up.

"By the holy poker, Pierre, where did you spring from?" asked Tarlton
genially.

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and--" Pierre responded, with a
little turn of his fingers.

"And the wind doesn't tell where it's been, but that's no reason Pierre
shouldn't," urged the other.

Pierre shrugged his shoulders, but made no answer. "He was a tough," said
a voice from the crowd. "To-morrow he'll get the breakfast he's paid
for." Pierre turned and looked at the speaker with a cold inquisitive
stare. "Mon Dieu!" he said presently, "here's this Gohawk playing
preacher. What do you know of Malachi, Gohawk? What do any of you know