ey treated me after I'm dead, and be sorry for
neglecting me, I was rude to you when you came in, and swore a trifle
promiscuous: but don't you mind me, it's only my way. You'll allow,
though, that I have cause to be a bit touchy now and again when I think
of all that's passed. You're not going, are you? Well, if you must, you
must; but I hope you will look me up at odd times when you are going
your rounds. Oh, I say, you've left the balance of that cake of tobacco
behind you, haven't you? No; it's in your pocket--that's all right.
Thank ye, doctor, you're a good sort, and as quick at a hint as any man
I've met.

A couple of months after narrating his experiences, Wolf Tone Maloney
finished his term, and was released. For a long time I neither saw him
nor heard of him, and he had almost slipped from my memory, until I
was reminded, in a somewhat tragic manner, of his existence. I had been
attending a patient some distance off in the country, and was riding
back, guiding my tired horse among the boulders which strewed the
pathway, and endeavoring to see my way through the gathering darkness,
when I came suddenly upon a little wayside inn. As I walked my horse up
toward the door, intending to make sure of my bearings before proceeding
further, I heard the sound of a violent altercation within the little
bar.

There seemed to be a chorus of expostulation or remonstrance, above
which two powerful voices rang out loud and angry. As I listened, there
was a momentary hush, two pistol shots sounded almost simultaneously,
and with a crash the door burst open and a pair of dark figures
staggered out into the moonlight. They struggled for a moment in a
deadly wrestle, and then went down together among the loose stones.
I had sprung off my horse, and, with the help of half a dozen rough
fellows from the bar, dragged them away from one another.

A glance was sufficient to convince me that one of them was dying fast.
He was a thick-set burly fellow, with a determined cast of countenance.
The blood was welling from a deep stab in his throat, and it was evident
that an important artery had been divided. I turned away from him in
despair, and walked over to where his antagonist was lying. He was shot
through the lungs, but managed to raise himself up on his hand as I
approached, and peered anxiously up into my face. To my surprise, I
saw before me the haggard features and flaxen hair of my prison
acquaintance, Maloney.

"Ah, doctor