It was a shame, an outrage. Detective Downy was voted a
public enemy, and his name was execrated from the chapel yard to
McMahon's bar.
The only satisfaction available to the people was in going over the
ground, and they flocked to Joe's hut and congregated there, discussing,
arguing, and predicting; examining with owlish wisdom the bullet mark on
the hut chimney, and counting the blood spots on the worn track near the
door where the hero Casey bled in defence of his country's laws. Of
course, 'the boy Haddon' was a favourite theme, and now Dick appeared as
a public benefactor. The matter of the stolen gold had yet to be settled,
but the most generous view of this business was popular, and the
confidence in Richard Haddon was complete. The women declared
emphatically and without a blush that they had always believed in the
honesty and intelligence and brave good heart of the boy. To be sure he
was a bit wild and a little mischievous--but, there, what boy worth his
salt was not? and, in spite of everything they had all seen long ago that
Widow Haddon's young son was a good lad at bottom. His conduct in
deluding Joe Rogers in the face of so terrible a danger reflected credit
upon Waddy, and Waddy gratefully responded by being heartily proud of
him. A crowd marched to Mrs. Haddon's back fence expressly to cheer Dick;
and cheer him they did, in a solemn, matter-of-fact way, like a people
performing a high public duty.
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