"
It was after six when I reached the hotel, but I had my hair trimmed
before I went in to supper. The style of trimming adopted then I still
rigidly adhere to, and call it "the Tommy Stafford stubble-crop."
Ten days passed before I again saw the Major. Immediately upon his
return--it was late afternoon when I heard of it--I determined to take
my evening walk out the long street toward his pleasant home and call
upon him there. This I did, and found him in a wholesome state of
fatigue, slippers and easy chair, enjoying his pipe on the piazza. Of
course, he was overflowing with happy reminiscences of the hunt--the
wood-and-water-craft--boats--ambushes--decoys, and tramp, and camp,
and so on, without end;--but I wanted to hear him talk of "The Wild
Irishman"--Tommy; and I think, too, now, that the sagacious Major
secretly read my desires all the time. To be utterly frank with the
reader I will admit that I not only think the Major divined my
interest in Tommy, but I know he did; for at last, as though reading
my very thoughts, he abruptly said, after a long pause, in which he
knocked the ashes from his pipe and refilled and lighted it:--"Well,
all I know of 'The Wild Irishman' I can tell you in a very few
words--that is, if you care at all to listen?" And the crafty old
Major seemed to hesitate.
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