“He hated th’ polis, an’ good reason he had f’r it.  They pulled him out iv bed be night to search him.  If he turned a corner, they ran him f’r blocks down th’ sthreet.  Whin he got older, they begun shootin’ at him; an’ it wasn’t manny years befure he begun to shoot back.  He was right enough whin he was in here.  I cud conthrol him.  But manny th’ night whin he had his full iv liquor I’ve see him go out with his gun in his outside pocket; an’ thin I’d hear shot after shot down th’ sthreet, an’ I’d know him an’ his ol’ inimy Clancy ‘d met an’ was exchangin’ compliments.  He put wan man on th’ polis pension fund with a bullet through his thigh.

“They got him afther a while.  He’d kept undher cover f’r months, livin’ in freight cars an’ hidin’ undher viadocks with th’ pistol in his hand.  Wan night he come out, an’ broke into Schwartzmeister’s place.  He sneaked through th’ alley with th’ German man’s damper in his arms, an’ Clancy leaped on him fr’m th’ fence.  Th’ kid was tough, but Clancy played fut-ball with th’ Finerty’s on Sundah, an’ was tougher; an’, whin th’ men on th’ other beats come up, Carey was hammered so they had to carry him to th’ station an’ nurse him f’r trile.

“He wint over th’ road, an’ come back gray an’ stooped, I was afraid iv th’ boy with his black eyes; an’ wan night he see me watchin’ him, an’ he says:  ‘Ye needn’t be afraid,’ he says.  ’I won’t hurt ye.  Ye’re not Clancy,’ he says,

“I tol’ Clancy about it, but he was a brave man; an’ says he:  ’’Tis wan an’ wan, an’ a thief again an’ honest man.  If he gets me, he must get me quick.’  Th’ nex’ night about dusk he come saunterin’ up th’ sthreet, swingin’ his club an’ jokin with his frind, whin some wan shouted, ‘Look out, Clancy.’  He was not quick enough.  He died face forward, with his hands on his belt; an’ befure all th’ wurruld Jack Carey come across th’ sthreet, an’ put another ball in his head.

“They got him within twinty yards iv me store.  He was down in th’ shadow iv th’ house, an’ they was shootin’ at him fr’m roofs an’ behind barns.  Whin he see it was all up, he come out with his eyes closed, firin’ straight ahead; an’ they filled him so full iv lead he broke th’ hub iv th’ pathrol wagon takin’ him to th’ morgue.”

“It served him right,” said Mr. McKenna.

“Who?” said Mr. Dooley.  “Carey or Clancy?”

THE O’BRIENS FOREVER.

“I think, by dad,” said Mr. Dooley, “that Hinnissy’s crazy.”

“I always thought so,” said Mr. McKenna, amiably.  “But what’s he been doin’ of late?”

“Well, I took him down to see th’ good la-ads havin’ fun with th’ opprissors iv th’ people at th’ Colliseem,’ said Mr. Dooley.  “I had no ticket, an’ he had none.  Th’ frinds iv honest money had give thim all to Jawn P. Hopkins’s la-ads.  They’re frinds iv honest money, whin they’se no other in sight.  But I’d like to see anny goold-bug or opprissor iv th’ people keep th’