CHAPTER VI "I was the Flail of the Lord"

"Nothoughtofit." "Thesamehere.Nothoughtofit.Andhereweare,uptoournecksinthetureen.Why,I'veonlybeenbackthreeweeksfromUganda,andtakenaplaceinScotland,andsignedtheleaseandall.Prettygoin'son—what?Howdoesithityou?" "Well,itisallinthemainlineofmybusiness.IamajournalistontheGazette." "Ofcourse—yousaidsowhenyoutookiton.Bytheway,I'vegotasmalljobforyou,ifyou'llhelpme." "Withpleasure." "Don'tmindtakin'arisk,doyou?" "Whatistherisk?" "Well,it'sBallinger—he'stherisk.You'veheardofhim?" "No." "Why,youngfellah,whereHAVEyoulived?SirJohnBallingeristhebestgentlemanjockinthenorthcountry.Icouldholdhimontheflatatmybest,butoverjumpshe'smymaster.Well,it'sanopensecretthatwhenhe'soutoftrainin'hedrinkshard—strikin'anaverage,hecallsit.HegotdeliriumonToosday,andhasbeenragin'likeadevileversince.Hisroomisabovethis.Thedoctorssaythatitisallupwiththeolddearunlesssomefoodisgotintohim,butasheliesinbedwitharevolveronhiscoverlet,andswearshewillputsixofthebestthroughanyonethatcomesnearhim,there'sbeenabitofastrikeamongtheserving-men.He'sahardnail,isJack,andadeadshot,too,butyoucan'tleaveaGrandNationalwinnertodielikethat—what?" "Whatdoyoumeantodo,then?"Iasked. "Well,myideawasthatyouandIcouldrushhim.Hemaybedozin',andattheworsthecanonlywingoneofus,andtheothershouldhavehim.Ifwecangethisbolster-coverroundhisarmsandthen'phoneupastomach-pump,we'llgivetheolddearthesupperofhislife." Itwasaratherdesperatebusinesstocomesuddenlyintoone'sday'swork.Idon'tthinkthatIamaparticularlybraveman.IhaveanIrishimaginationwhichmakestheunknownandtheuntriedmoreterriblethantheyare.Ontheotherhand,Iwasbroughtupwithahorrorofcowardiceandwithaterrorofsuchastigma.IdaresaythatIcouldthrowmyselfoveraprecipice,liketheHuninthehistorybooks,ifmycouragetodoitwerequestioned,andyetitwouldsurelybeprideandfear,ratherthancourage,whichwouldbemyinspiration.Therefore,althougheverynerveinmybodyshrankfromthewhisky-maddenedfigurewhichIpicturedintheroomabove,Istillanswered,inascarelessavoiceasIcouldcommand,thatIwasreadytogo.SomefurtherremarkofLordRoxton'saboutthedangeronlymademeirritable. "Talkingwon'tmakeitanybetter,"saidI."Comeon." Irosefrommychairandhefromhis.Thenwithalittleconfidentialchuckleoflaughter,hepattedmetwoorthreetimesonthechest,finallypushingmebackintomychair. "Allright,sonnymylad—you'lldo,"saidhe.Ilookedupinsurprise. "IsawafterJackBallingermyselfthismornin'.Heblewaholeintheskirtofmykimono,blesshisshakyoldhand,butwegotajacketonhim,andhe'stobeallrightinaweek.Isay,youngfellah,Ihopeyoudon'tmind—what?Yousee,betweenyouan'meclose-tiled,IlookonthisSouthAmericanbusinessasamightyseriousthing,andifIhaveapalwithmeIwantamanIcanbankon.SoIsizedyoudown,andI'mboundtosaythatyoucamewelloutofit.Yousee,it'salluptoyouandme,forthisoldSummerleemanwillwantdry-nursin'fromthefirst.Bytheway,areyoubyanychancetheMalonewhoisexpectedtogethisRugbycapforIreland?" "Areserve,perhaps." "IthoughtIrememberedyourface.Why,IwastherewhenyougotthattryagainstRichmond—asfineaswervin'runasIsawthewholeseason.InevermissaRugbymatchifIcanhelpit,foritisthemanliestgamewehaveleft