d spend the money thus far
earned, while Rourke was curiously indifferent as to whether he went or
stayed. "'Tis to drink he waants," he would declare amusedly. To me it
was all like a scene out of comic opera.

Toward the last, however, a natural calm set in, the result no doubt of
weariness and a sense of surfeit, which sent the building forward apace.
During this time Rourke was to be seen walking defiantly up and down the
upper scaffolding of the steadily rising walls, or down below on the
ground in front of his men, his hands behind his back, his face screwed
into a quizzical expression, his whole body bearing a look of bristling
content and pugnacity which was too delicious for words. Since things
were going especially well he could not say much, but still he could
look his contentiousness, and did. Even now he would occasionally manage
to pick a quarrel with some lusty mason or other, which resulted in the
customary descent to the office, but not often.

But one cold December day, about three weeks later, when I was just
about to announce that I could no longer delay my departure, seeing that
my health was now as good, or nearly so, as my purse was lean, and that,
whether I would or no, I must arrange to make more money, that a most
dreadful accident occurred. It appeared that Rourke and a number of
Italians, including Matt and Jimmie, were down in the main room of the
building, now fast nearing completion, when the boiler of the hoisting
engine, which had been placed inside the building and just at the
juncture of three walls, blew up and knocked out this wall and the
joists of the second and third floors loose, thus precipitating all of
fifteen thousand bricks, which had been placed on the third floor, into
this room below. For a few moments there had been a veritable hurricane
of bricks and falling timber; and then, when it was over, it was found
that the mighty Rourke and five Italians were embedded in or under them,
and all but Jimmie more or less seriously injured or killed. Two
Italians were killed outright. A third died later. Rourke, in
particular, was unfortunately placed and terribly injured. His body from
the waist down was completely buried by a pile of bricks, and across his
shoulder lay a great joist pressing where it had struck him, and cutting
his neck and ear. He was a pathetic sight when we entered, bleeding and
pain-wrenched yet grim and undaunted, as one might have expected.

"I'm tight fas