Page:Hopkinson Smith--Tom Grogan.djvu/225

 courier trustee, taking his seat. “Grogan won't live an hour, if she ain't dead now. She had a sick horse that wanted looking after, and she went into the stable without a light, and he let drive, and broke her skull. She's got a gash the length of your hand—wasn't that it, Mr. McGaw?”

McGaw nodded his head.

“Yes; that's about it,” he said. The voice seemed to come from his stomach, it was so hollow.

“Did you see her, Mr. McGaw?” asked the Scotchman in a positive tone.

“How c'u'd I be a-seein' her whin I been in New Yorruk 'mos' all day? D' ye think I'm runnin' roun' to ivery stable in the place? I wuz a-comin' 'cross lots whin I heared it. They says the horse had blin' staggers.”

“How do you know, then?” asked the Scotchman suspiciously. “Who told you the horse kicked her?”

“Well, I dunno; I think it wuz some un”—

Dempsey looked at him and knit his brow. McGaw stopped.

“Don't you know enough of a horse to know he couldn't kick with blind staggers?” insisted the Scotchman.