But when the lass made the contract with Mike
Dermott, the good fellow said he should take Nora and her
box for the love of County Cork. "Indade, indade, I
don't take money from the like of her."
And so they started, with the Swedish men walking on
one side of the cart with their rifles, keeping a good
lookout for buffaloes and red Indians and grizzly bears,
as men landing in a new country which they were to
civilize. More sailing for there was the ferry to cross
to old Boston. Much waiting, for there was a broken-down
coal-wagon in Salutation Alley. Long conference between
Nora and Mike, in which he did all the talking and she
all the listening, as to home rule and Mr. McCarthy, and
what O'Brien thought of this, and what Cunniff thought of
that. Then an occasional question came in Swedish from
the matron above their heads, and was followed by a reply
in Celtic English from Mike, each wholly ignorant of the
views or wishes of the others. And occasionally the
escort of riflemen, after some particular attack of
chaff, in words which they fortunately did not
understand, looked up to their matron, controller, and
director, exchanged words with her, and then studied
the pavement again for tracks of buffalo. A long hour of
all this, the stone and brick of the city giving way to
green trees between the houses as they come to
Dorchester.
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