"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. "My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. She has already forgotten it. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob.
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