wanted to discuss the best way of dealing with land grabbers. Dr. Henaghan was found helplessly drunk outside the door of his uncle's house, and was conducted home by two policemen.
There was a large attendance at the auction next day. The people were anxious to find out whether anyone would dare to bid for the farm. It was suspected that a certain Scotchman, one McNab, might venture to defy the popular wrath, and argument ran high about what should be done to him afterwards. McNab was, in fact, quite willing to acquire a valuable property cheap if he could; but he had very little money of his own, and was one of those to whom the bank manager had refused an advance. Still he had hopes. It was a sheriff's sale. There would be no reserve price. He gathered all the money he could lay hands on, and faced the auctioneer with a look of grim determination.
The farm was put up, "offered up," to use the phrase of the local auctioneer. The expression was suitable enough, for it seemed likely that not only the farm, but the Widow Flanagan, would be placed in the position of sacrifices, whole-burnt offerings to the unconquerable love of liberty which animates the breasts of Irishmen.
"Twenty pounds," said McNab, the Scotchman.
The crowd hissed, booed, and cursed with the utmost heartiness. Not a man present but was extremely angry at the idea of McNab acquiring for twenty pounds what everybody else was afraid
