n' he had his fut on th' ladder whin Clancy started.
Well, th' good man wint into th' smoke, with his wife faintin' down
below. 'He'll be kilt,' says his brother. 'Ye don't know him,' says
Bill Musham. An' sure enough, whin ivry wan'd give him up, out comes me
brave Clancy, as black as a Turk, with th' girl in his arms. Th' others
wint up like monkeys, but he shtud wavin' thim off, an' come down th'
ladder face forward. 'Where'd ye larn that?' says Bill Musham. 'I seen a
man do it at th' Lyceem whin I was a kid,' says Clancy. 'Was it all
right?' 'I'll have ye up before th' ol' man,' says Bill Musham. 'I'll
teach ye to come down a laddher as if ye was in a quadhrille, ye
horse-stealin', ham-sthringin' May-o man,' he says. But he didn't.
Clancy wint over to see his wife. 'O Mike,' says she, ''twas fine,' she
says. 'But why d'ye take th' risk?' she says. 'Did ye see th' captain?'
he says with a scowl. 'He wanted to go. Did ye think I'd follow a Kerry
man with all th' ward lukkin' on?' he says.

"Well, so he wint dhrivin' th' hose-cart on wan wheel, an' jumpin' whin
he heerd a man so much as hit a glass to make it ring. All th' people
looked up to him, an' th' kids followed him down th' sthreet; an' 'twas
th' gr-reatest priv'lige f'r anny wan f'r to play dominos with him near
th' joker. But about a year ago he come in to see me, an' says he,
'Well, I'm goin' to quit.' 'Why,' says I, 'ye'er a young man yet,' I
says. 'Faith,' he says, 'look at me hair,' he says,--'young heart, ol'
head. I've been at it these twinty year, an' th' good woman's wantin' to
see more iv me thin blowin' into a saucer iv coffee,' he says. 'I'm
goin' to quit,' he says, 'on'y I want to see wan more good fire,' he
says. 'A rale good ol' hot wan,' he says, 'with th' win' blowin' f'r it
an' a good dhraft in th' ilivator-shaft, an' about two stories, with
pitcher-frames an' gasoline an' excelsior, an' to hear th' chief
yellin': "Play 'way, sivinteen. What th' hell an' damnation are ye
standin' aroun' with that pipe f'r? Is this a fire 'r a dam livin'
pitcher? I'll break ivry man iv eighteen, four, six, an' chem'cal five
to-morrah mornin' befure breakfast." Oh,' he says, bringin' his fist
down, 'wan more, an' I'll quit.'

"An' he did, Jawn. Th' day th' Carpenter Brothers' box factory burnt.
'Twas wan iv thim big, fine-lookin' buildings that pious men built out
iv celluloid an' plasther iv Paris. An' Clancy was wan iv th' men undher
whin th' wall fell. I se