"--indignation in Tim always disposed him to
classic periods--"if there are those who wave the green flag to tatters
at every Irish meeting, and then betray her to those who hate her, there
are also those who, though they have never made a sacrifice in their
lives for this country, would prevent all but their own little kind from
breathing the free air of it. As for me, I've come to this city to do
something; and I'll stay here until I've done it. A while ago I agreed
to go to New Ireland, and to New Ireland I'm going. Good day!" And the
windows rattled with the banging of the door behind him.

"A proper bull-headed Irishman, that fellow," observed the chairman
presently.

"Or is it he has convictions and is not afraid to voice them?" The
senator had a habit of scratching his beard with his finger-nails, and
again of drawing his chin in on his chest and looking over his
gold-rimmed pince-nez. He drew in his chin now, and the chairman did not
like it. He never did.

"A good fighter, I should say." The tall boss scratched his beard with
his finger-nails. "An encouraging thing to meet a good fighter
in these fat days; but let us see." He stepped over to where a
blue-and-red-spotted map of the State was hanging and laid a finger on a
blue spot: "New Ireland, which we can safely call the enemy's banner
town for its size in the United States. If Riley can leave his mark on
that place it will be proof to me that he can make breaches all along
the line."

"More likely, I think, that the place will leave its mark on him. More
likely they will crack his skull, I think. He may love a fight; but New
Ireland is full of men who love fighting too--and they are not with us."

"That's true--they are not." The boss drew his chin in to his neck
again. "Too bad they are not. Suppose we wait, however, and see how
Riley makes out. His reputation is that of a most resourceful man. And
if he does make an impression on New Ireland he can have anything I can
give him in this State."

II

It is a good place--a moving train--for serious meditation. Tim Riley
allowed the landscape to fly by, the while he considered matters. He
knew the temper of the kind of people with whom he was to battle. They
were so many more like himself. As for trying to bulldoze or browbeat
them, or--if he was that kind--to bribe a single one, though they were
the hard-working, unsophisticated kind--whisht!--like the wind they'd go
the other way. And as for scari