Dan Lyons’ Doom - ebook

Contents

I. RESIGNATION

II. THE DESERTED CLAIMS

III.

IV. THE FORTUNE-TELLER OF MOUNT ROBAN

V. THE DEAD MAN'S CURSE

VI. THE NUGGET CLAIM

VII. "BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!"

VIII. MRS. BRADY'S SONS

IX. LOST

X. TADY'S SECRET

XI. DAN!

XII. IN THE SAND AND FERNS

XIII. HE IS MY BROTHER!

XIV.

XV. LITTLE DANIEL ON THE TRACK

XVI. WHAT GOLD WILL DO

XVII. THE MURDERER'S DREAM

XVIII. THERE ARE TWELVE OF US

XIX. AND LASTI. RESIGNATION

“AND this is the place?” the tall, refined- looking young man asked, as he seated himself on a stone upon the hillside and surveyed the country at his feet. “This is Marranga you have talked to me so much about, Tady?”

“‘Tis, misther Leonard; we are in it a last, praises be. There faceint you is big Mount Roban, with the little township lying at the pit of it, just the same as it was twelve years ago. And now look below you to your right: do you see the low house wid the trees a’most a-top of it, and Roban Creek creeping along by it like a thread of silver in the grass? Well, that’s St. Herrick’s place.”

“Ah, I see it, Tady; and your golden claim, where did it lie?”

“Where it lies yet, please God. Do you see the big dead tree sticking white like a skeleton, out of the slope behind the house? The claims were not twenty yards from that.”

“Well, now Tady, just tell me the story of the St. Herrick’s on the spot while I smoke a pipe. It has always seemed to me a very unreal story; perhaps I may feel more like crediting it if I hear it here on the spot from which I can see the scene itself.”

“You were ever an’ always a hard nut, misther Leonard, and wouldn’t believe the priest himself if he wint against you; but here you are now, afther travellin’ thousands av miles to make a liar of me an’ you can’t do it.”

Leonard Prosser laughed pleasantly as he manipulated his tobacco, and looked slyly at the comical figure seated near him on the grass.

“I don’t know so much about that, Tady. What witnesses have you at Marranga?”

“I was just wonderin’,” Tady returned, thoughtfully. “If he’s here yet. There’s a gentleman lives in one of them white houses beyant the bridge that can tell you the story as well as I can, an’ bedad, he _may_tell it, for I don’t never again. I’m tired of being misbelieved and misdoubted.”

“If I thought you were in earnest, I’d go right back to Corbally again,” the young man replied, laughingly, as he put a match to his pipe and began to smoke enjoyably, “but I know that you cannot wish for a greater proof of my confidence in you than that I should have followed you half round the world to see Marranga and the lost claim.”

“That’s true, sur, but all the same I’d like Mr. Pollard to tell you about it, if he’s to the fore, but twelve years is a long time.”

“Who was Mr. Pollard?”

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