Anthony had told his story well, which was evident from the way the men listened. For several minutes after Anthony finished his story, the men sat there smoking in silence. I watched the Texan as he sat there with a cynical smile on his face. I certainly did not like that man for I felt that he had something on Phil’ McIntyre. As young as I was, I figured that McIntyre owed him money and that was why the stranger was there.
    There was no scarcity of liquor in those days. The decanter was on the sideboard and it was customary for you to help yourself. The two horsemen made frequent trips to the sideboard and helped themselves lavishly. They were the only ones in the party that drank strong liquor that evening.
    A little later, Mrs. McIntyre and the girls went up to bed and Mr. McIntyre urged Anthony to relate some more of his experiences. When Anthony got started, there was no stopping him.
    He told of his childhood spent in Ireland, his home land. He spoke of the harsh laws in Ireland at that time and of his old school master. The school master was not supposed to run a school contrary to the new laws. The pupils hid behind a hedge and the master smuggled books from nooks and places where he had hidden them. Two members of the class would act as guards to warn their mates of the approach of any of the soldiers.
    The laws prohibited the teaching in the native language and the soldiers were ever on the watch for those who broke this law. If a school master was found guilty, he was hanged.
    “I learned my A. B. C.s”, Anthony said, “behind a hedge. There were eighteen letters in the Irish alphabet, the first alphabet which came after the hieroglyphics, the oldest book in the Milesian alphabet. The first musical instrument was the harp and even the violin came from Ireland. The Morris code originated from the Milesian alphabet. They had a written language five hundred years before Rome was established. At that time, English natives were stealing the skins of wild animals from each other.”
    Such an exposition upon historical facts of Ireland did not seem to take well with the man of the sunflower face and the Texan nudged the former in the ribs as he said slyly, “Say are you not an Hinglishman”, and guffawed loudly. Sunflower Face took a drink from the decantor and scowled at the Texan.