sk.
The old man saw, and immediately brought out a wooden cup. There were
two on the shelf, and Shon pointed to the other. Pourcette took no
notice. Shon went over to get it, but Pourcette laid a hand on his arm:
"Not that."

"For ornamint!" said Shon, laughing, and then his eyes were arrested by
a suit of buckskin and a cap of beaver, hanging on the wall. He turned
them over, and then suddenly drew back his hand, for he saw in the back
of the jacket a knife-slit. There was blood also on the buckskin.

"Holy Mary!" he said, and retreated. Lawless had not noticed; he was
pouring out the liquor. He had handed the cup first to Pourcette, who
raised it towards a gun hung above the fireplace, and said something
under his breath.

"A dramatic little fellow," thought Lawless; "the spirit of his
forefathers--a good deal of heart, a little of the poseur."

Then hearing Shon's exclamation, he turned.

"It's an ugly sight," said Shon, pointing to the jacket. They both
looked at Pourcette, expecting him to speak. The old man reached to the
coat, and, turning it so that the cut and the blood were hid, ran his
hand down it caressingly. "Ah, poor Jo! poor Jo Gordineer!" he said;
then he came over once more to the fire, sat down, and held out his
hands to the fire, shaking his head.

"For God's sake, Lawless, give me a drink!" said Shon. Their eyes met,
and there was the same look in the faces of both. When Shon had drunk,
he said: "So, that's what's come to our old friend, Jo: dead--killed or
murdered--"

"Don't speak so loud," said Lawless. "Let us get the story from him
first."

Years before, when Shon M'Gann and Pierre and Lawless had sojourned in
the Pipi Valley, Jo Gordineer had been with them, as stupid and true a
man as ever drew in his buckle in a hungry land, or let it out to munch
corn and oil. When Lawless returned to find Shon and others of his
companions, he had asked for Gordineer. But not Shon nor anyone else
could tell aught of him; he had wandered north to outlying goldfields,
and then had disappeared completely. But there, as it would seem, his
coat and cap hung, and his rifle, dust-covered, kept guard over the
fire.

Shon went over to the coat, did as Pourcette had done, and said: "Is it
gone y'are, Jo, wid your slow tongue and your big heart? Wan by wan the
lads are off."

Pourcette, without any warning, began speaking, but in a very quiet tone
at first, as if unconscious of the others:

"Poor Jo Go