Something made Harrigan's heart big; rose and swelled his throat; rose again and came as a wild yell upon his tongue.
The unfortunates who have faced Irish legions in battle know that yell.
The soldiers did not know it, and they held back for a moment.
Something else lowered their spirits still more.

It was the clanging of the police patrol as it swung to a halt and a body of reserves poured out.
"Here comes our finish!" panted Harrigan to his comrade in arms.

"But oh, man, I'm thinkin' it was swate while it lasted!" In his great moments the Irish brogue thronged thick upon his tongue.
"Finish, hell!" grunted the other.

"After me, lad!" And lowering his head like a bull, he drove forward against the crowd.
Harrigan caught the idea in a flash.

He put his shoulder to the hip of his friend.