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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Valley of Fear"

"
"Well, I suppose you mean well, and I do thank you," said McMurdo
in no very gracious manner.
"It's mum with me so long as I see you living on the straight,"
said the captain. "But, by the Lord! if you get off after this,
it's another story! So good-night to you--and good-night,
Councillor."
He left the bar-room; but not before he had created a local hero.
McMurdo's deeds in far Chicago had been whispered before. He had
put off all questions with a smile, as one who did not wish to
have greatness thrust upon him. But now the thing was officially
confirmed. The bar loafers crowded round him and shook him
heartily by the hand. He was free of the community from that
time on. He could drink hard and show little trace of it; but
that evening, had his mate Scanlan not been at hand to lead him
home, the feted hero would surely have spent his night under the
bar.
On a Saturday night McMurdo was introduced to the lodge. He had
thought to pass in without ceremony as being an initiate of
Chicago; but there were particular rites in Vermissa of which
they were proud, and these had to be undergone by every
postulant.


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