RAVE! Brave is it ye are? Oh, 'tis a foine, bold man ye be whin yer full of liquor. Ye do big things, thin; ye talk, thin, about climbin' on bridges an' runnin' up sky-scrapers loike the monkey ye be, but whin it comes to moral courage ye ain't worth the shake of a dry rag." Katy Mulligan spitefully snapped the dish cloth she was using. "Oi tell ye, Moike," she went on, well ye hang yer head in shame. Whin ye know me an' the childer is sore in nade of yer week's wages iv'ry Monday night, why do ye lit thot Donovan, an' Jack Kelly an' the rist of thot worthless gang drag ye over to Lonergan's dirty hole of a sayloon? Don't tell me ye can't help it-more's the shame if ye can'tAch, ye stupid, good-natured coward, Oi've a mind to punch thot mug of yers!"

'tis

Her face fairly flared as she thrust her large freckled fist, dripping with water, close to the nose of her troubled spouse.

Mike, huddled on a stool in a corner of the kitchen, ducked so hurriedly that he cracked his little red head against the wall, bringing the tears into his eyes. "Now-now, Catherine," he whined.

66

'Catherine!' Don't 'Catherine' me!" There was a contempt in the words that wilted him. "Last night ye didn't spake so soft an' lovin'ly. Thin it was, 'Kate, ye dam' jade, why in hill can't ye stay up for a man instid of puttin' yer lazy carcass in bed?' An' two o'clock in the mornin' an' me been washin' all day at thot. Ye dirty, heartless brute! Oh, yer only brave whin yer drunk!" And in her wrathful disgust Katy plunged her arms into the dishpan with a vehemence that showered the floor with hot spray.

Mike, watching every move with the crafty alertness of a cat, saw his chance, and slipping from his perch, surreptitiously snatched up his dinner pail and sneaked through the open door.

She faced about as he crossed the threshold.

"Ye coward; ye crawlin', whimperin' coward. Git out of me sight! An' don't let me see you again this day, ayther," she hurled after him.

The scene was not an unusual one at the home of the Mulligans. Mike had one failing-a fondness for strong drink. When under its influence his usually peaceful nature became boastful and quarrelsome. At such times Catherine made no attempt to interfere with him. At all other times she was his master, and ruled with a rod of iron. Still with all the ardor of a large, warm heart she loved the little Irishman. His slight figure and mild blue eyes appealed to all the feminine instincts of her nature.

A half smile of tenderness illumined her face while her eyes were still alight with the sparks of her wrath as they followed the dejected figure, trudging along with well-scoured dinner pail hanging low. Already she regretted that she had denied him his breakfast. The punishment was too great for the crime. Well, she would make it up in some other way.

"Ah, Moike, Moike," she sighed, "you little runt. Yer a regular baste whin drunk; but, oh, what a jewel whin sober!"

It was nearly an hour past his usual time for starting work when Mike arrived at the engineer's office overlooking Big Cleft Gorge, where the bridge was being built. Jim Haworth, superintendent of construction, scowled darkly as Mulligan entered the little shed-like

structure.

"This is a hell of a time for you to get here, ain't it, now?" was his sarcastic greeting. "How do you fellows suppose we can live up to contract and get the bridge done on schedule time when you're always coming in late?"

Then, as Mike stood downcast and silent, he added, "Well, get to work. What are you loafing here for?"

And Mike slunk away, closing the door softly behind him.

He stood for a little, looking down at the river. It slipped away-blue and broad-as smoothly and as silently as the floating clouds mirrored in its depths. Over the water hung the skeleton of the bridge-girders of steel naked against. the sky, mere bits of cobweb in the immensity of space; and ant-like men clung and toiled there.

Mike climbed up the abutment and stepped out upon this skeleton. It sang and hummed and vibrated in a sort of rhythm beneath the steady strokes of the workers. A brisk breeze blowing through the gorge whipped against his face.

"There's Mulligan over there," suddenly exclaimed one of the men; "what's the matter with him? He's jumping about like a hen on a roost."

Indeed, he was jumping about like a hen on a roost, his arms extended, like a grotesque bird that, just alighted, was steadying itself.

O'Malley, foreman of the gang, looked up, and at sight of the queer figure in rusty coat and faded baggy overalls coming forward with odd gesticulations, like a performer on a darkred cable, he piled up the huge oaths.

"He's feeling happy, that's what's the matter with him. Get off there, you idiot," he roared, his deep voice sounding above the clangor; "don't you know you'll be shaken to paradise?"

Mike's response was a particularly merry caper. The men began throwing down their tools to watch the fun.

Big Donovan, object of Katy's wrath, leaned forward with outstretched hand, whistling

as to a dog. "Come, Fido, come," he sang out.

At this juncture, Mulligan's hat, pulled down over his eyes, was snatched away by an eddying current of air, and sent spinning downward in rapid, circling flight into the great abyss.

The face thrown into view was white, ghastly. It was as if they looked upon death stalking toward them.

A murmur of horror succeeded the boisterous merriment. The farce was a farce no longer. The little figure, swaying on with set jaws and rigid muscles was suddenly battling for his life.

O'Malley, a man of experience, had seen the thing before; had known it to creep upon the stoutest-hearted, the most iron-nerved of men. He read the mean

ing in the struggling muscles, in the lines of the strained face. As he watched the wretched man plant each foot tremulously, waveringly, a great terror chilled. his own heart. With Mulligan he could see the world swirl, could perceive the

ALREADY SHE REGRETTED SHE HAD DENIED HIM HIS BREAKFAST."

haze that obscured the vision; it was as though his own soul, as well as Mulligan's, burned with a fierce consuming fire. to reach the workmen's platform-a few boards rudely tossed together, but offering rest for the trembling limbs, relief for the almost compelling desire to look down. His own muscles strained in sympathy, and he found himself on his knees reaching forward to draw the struggling man to safety.

But Donovan's raillery had wrought its mischief. At the jeering wordsheard, but not understood-Mulligan raised his eyes from the beam-eyes

charged with a look of wild, hopeless terror. He came to a full stop. The cold perspiration burst out upon his face. For an instant he swayed unsteadily. Then his gaze dropped to the appalling depths. depths. The suspense was brief. His knees gave way, and with a despairing cry he slid from the girder.

The horrified watchers were still drawing in a swift intake of breath when the fall was ended. In dropping he had caught the beam with his outstretched hands, and now raising his body partly upon it, he wrapped his arms about in a desperate, convulsive grasp, his legs dangling in space.

O'Malley was a man of action. A sharp word of authority and he had stopped the senseless uproar.

"And, Donovan," he added, "come out there with me and see if we can't save the poor divil."

They found Mulligan breathing short, hurried gasps, his eyes fixed in an unwinking, glassy stare downward.

man.

"Sort of hypnotized," said the fore"Here," he shouted, and grasping Mulligan roughly by the collar, smote him a sharp blow on the side of the head with his open hand. "Get up; what do you mean by this sort of thing? Do ye think ye can loaf here all day?"

There was little intimation that Mulligan had heard or felt. At the blow he had shaken his head as one might if annoyed by a fly; but that was all.

O'Malley looked at the blushing imprint of his palm on the pallid cheek and spat resolutely.

"We've got to make him mad or scare him worse than he's scared now. Though, Lor', I don't see how we're going to do that. Get hold of his fingers and smash 'em; don't use any mistaken kindness. Make the blood start; if we can only pry him loose for a minute we'll get him in."

"Ah, it's comin'," said Donovan in a matter-of-fact tone as though it were a piece of timber he was placing in position. Assuredly the patient was writhing under the exquisite torture. Then all of a flash he shifted his position, sliding his arms along, and took a still tighter grip.

"Oh, dam' it," groaned O'Malley, "stubborn as hell." But he was not at the end of his resources. He had a won

derful reserve of practical psychology tucked away in his brain.

"Boys," he shouted, "start the hammers goin'; maybe if he hears the noise goin' he'll sort of get over the feelin' of homesickness and come round all right."

The boom and thunder of the crash of steel on steel made the girders quiver. A jar ran through the huge beams that made them quiver under Mike's desperate, straining grip, but he bent his neck still farther and clutched the tighter.

O'Malley bit off a chunk of tobacco and spat impotently. Then he looked at Donovan in a way very near akin to despair. For once he was baffled.

"If his wife was only here," remarked Donovan.

O'Malley's jaw stopped, a sudden comprehension lighting his eye.

"Of course," he cried, in the tone of one who has solved a riddle. "Why didn't we think of that before?"

His eye ran over the throng and fixed upon Jack Kelly.

"Fetch Mrs. Mulligan," said O'Malley, laconically, and Kelly was off.

They waited with what patience they could muster. The foreman shifted about uneasily, swearing softly to himself and dividing his attention between. the shore and the prostrate man before him. He still chewed his wad of tobacco, but he no longer spat; his throat from excitement was parched.

"Lord!" he muttered every now and then, "suppose she don't come. An' what can she do for the little divil, anyway?"

But she did come. A moment arrived when O'Malley looked up to see her standing on the lip of the gorge. A hush fell on the rough gang. It was as if the inspiration of her presence had brought discipline out of chaos. Her hands were planted on her broad hips as, regardless of the curious gaze of the throng, she surveved the situation.

To Katy the spectacle was far more appalling than she had anticipated. She had been half-inclined to scoff at Kelly's story. She knew Mike to be one of the most skillful and daring of bridge builders, albeit otherwise almost a coward, and to imagine him seized with the falling fear was to her almost impossible. It was incredible. But as her eye ranged along the dull-red path of the girders to

the bundle of clothes hanging out there, the limp legs of the pantaloons dangling in the breeze, the blood rushed back to her heart.

"Oh, oh," she moaned in a sudden outburst of grief, wringing her hands.

O'Malley was running to meet her, swinging along as easily as if the narrow path of steel offered a broad and secure footing.

The sight in contrast to the shriveled figure she knew as her Mike's sent the blood up into her cheeks again.

"Oh, the coward," she whispered between her teeth, “the miserable coward! All his big words in his drunken moods just lies!"

Superintendent Haworth was standing at her side, his brow clouded with anxiety. "You had better call out to him, madam," he said gently, for he felt quick sympathy for this robust, redcheeked woman.

She turned suddenly on him in withering scorn. "As if thot would be of any use," she sniffed. "Mike gives no heed to me voice; it's the weight of me fist thot he respicts; an' he's goin' to feel it now."

O'Malley's mouth gaped open. "But you'll fall," said the superintendent, while he stared incredulous.

"Ach, Oi'll not fall even if Oi am big an' fat. It's mesilf, Oi can plainly see, thot be the one to drag thot loon of a Mulligan from the trapazy he's glued to.'

"Keep your eyes on the beam in front of you," gasped O'Malley. "Don't ye look down at the river." And Kelly stepped suddenly out ahead as if to stop her.

"Me people are from the west of Oirland, where 'tis all cliffs an' precipices," said Katy, gathering her skirts in her great fists. "Oi guess Oi ain't goin' to fall. fall. Pat Kelly, get out of me way, or go ahead an' show me how 'tis done."

Kelly obeyed, meek as water, and Katy smiled.

But the sensation of leaving the solid abutment and stepping out upon the narrow path of steel came to her as a distinct shock. For the first few steps she was horribly conscious of the abyss that yawned beneath. It tempted her eyes, coaxed and pleaded with them to cease noting the details of every iron bolt, of every square inch of the singing beam,