Part 6

Podgers uttered full-flavoured language. I looked at my watch and found that we could only "do" the train. Having hailed an outside car, the breakfastless Podgers seated himself upon one side, whilst I took the other, and after a very considerable expenditure of hard labour and skilful strategy, in which we were aided by the carman and Miss Byrne, we succeeded in forcing Albatross (the pointer) into the well in the middle. I am free to confess that I sat with my back to that animal with considerable misgivings. He looked hungry and vicious, and as though a piece of human flesh would prove as agreeable to his capacious maw as any other description of food. It was his habit, too, during our journey, to elevate his head in the air, and to give utterance to a series of the most unearthly howlings, which could only be partially interrupted, not by any means stopped, by Podgers' hat being pressed closely over the mouth, whilst Podgers punched him _a tergo_ with no very light hand.

"That's the quarest dog I ever seen," observed the driver. "He ought to be shupayrior afther badgers. He has a dhrop in his eye like a widdy's pig, and it's as black as a Christian's afther a ruction."

"He's a very fine dog, sir," exclaimed Podgers, in a reproving tone.

"He looks as if he'd set a herrin'," said the cab-man jocosely.

"Mind your horse, sir!" said Podgers angrily.

The driver, who was a jovial-tempered fellow, finding that his advances towards "the other side" were rejected, turned towards mine.

"Are you goin' huntin' wid the dog, sir?" he asked.

"We're going to shoot," I replied, in a dignified way.

"To shoot! Thin, begorra, yez may as well get off the car an' fire away at wanst. There's an illigant haystack foreninst yez, and--but here we are"--and he jerked up at the entrance to the station.

The jerk sent Albatross flying off the car, and his chain being dexterously fastened to the back rail of the driver's seat, the luckless animal remained suspended whilst his collar was being unfastened, in order to prevent the not very remote contingency of strangulation. Finding himself at liberty, he bounded joyously away, and, resisting all wiles and blandishments on the part of his master, continued to bound, gambol, frisk, bark, and yowl in a most reckless and idiotic way. It would not be acting fairly towards Podgers were I to chronicle his language during this festive outbreak. If the dog was in a frolicsome mood, Podgers was not, and his feelings got considerably the better of him when the bell rang to announce the departure of the train within three minutes of that warning.

Finding that all hopes of securing the animal in the ordinary way were thin as air, Podgers offered a reward of half-a-crown to any of the grinning bystanders who would bring him the dog dead or alive. This stimulus to exertion sent twenty corduroyed porters and as many amateurs in full pursuit of Albatross, who ducked and dived, and twisted and twined, and eluded detention with the agility of a greased sow; and it was only when one very corpulent railway official fell upon him in a squashing way, and during a masterly struggle to emerge from beneath the overwhelming weight, that he was surrounded and led in triumph, by as many of his pursuers as could obtain a handful of his hair, up to his irate and wrathful master. Each of the captors who were in possession of Albatross claimed a half-crown, refusing to give up the animal unless it was duly ransomed; and it was during a fierce and angry discussion upon this very delicate question that the last bell rang. With one despairing tug, Podgers pulled the dog inside the door of the station, which was then promptly closed, and through the intervention of a friendly guard our _bête noire_ was thrust into the carriage with us.

Having kicked the cause of our chagrin beneath one of the seats, I ventured to remark that in all probability the dog, instead of being a credit to us, was very likely to prove the reverse.

"It's only his liveliness, and be hanged to him," said Podgers. "He has been shut up for some time, and is as wild as a deer."

He would not admit a diminished faith in the dog; but his tone was irresolute, and he eyed the animal in a very doubting way.

"His liveliness ought to be considerably toned down after the rough handling he received from my servant, and----"

"By the way," Podgers went on, "that infernal woman isn't safe to have in the house; she'll be tried for murder some day, and the coroner will be sitting upon _your_ body. Is my eye very black?"

"Not very," I replied. It had reached a disreputable greenish hue, tinged with a tawny red.

At Ballybricken Station we found a very smart trap awaiting us, with a servant in buckskin breeches, and in top-boots polished as brightly as the panels of the trap.

"You've a dog, sir?" said the servant.

"Yes, yes," replied Podgers, in a hurried and confused sort of way.

"In the van, sir?"

"No; he is here--under the seat. Come out, Albatross!--come out, good fellow!" And Podgers chirruped and whistled in what was meant to be a seductive and blandishing manner.

Albatross stirred not.

"Hi! hi! Here, good fellow!"

Albatross commenced to growl.

"Dear me, this is very awkward!" cried Podgers, poking at the animal in a vigorous and irritated way.

"Time's up, sir," shouted the guard, essaying to close the door.

"Hold hard, sir! I can't get my dog out!" cried Podgers.

"I'll get him out," volunteered the guard; and, seizing upon the whip which the smart driver of the smart trap held in inviting proximity, he proceeded to thrust and buffet beneath the seat where Albatross lay concealed. The dog uttered no sound, gave no sign.

"There ain't no dog there at all," panted the guard, whose exertions rendered him nearly apoplectic, proceeding to explore the recesses of the carriage--"there ain't no dog here."

A shout of terror, and the guard flung himself out of the carriage, the dog hanging on not only to his coat-tails, but to a portion of the garment which their drapery concealed. "Take off your dog--take off your dog. I'll be destroyed. Police! police! I'll have the law of you!" he yelled, in an extremity of the utmost terror.

Podgers, who was now nearly driven to his wits' end, caught Albatross by the neck, and, bestowing a series of well-directed kicks upon the devoted animal, sent him howling off the platform, but right under the train.

The cry of "The dog will be killed!" was raised by a chorus of voices both from the carriages and the platform. Happily, however, the now wary Albatross lay flat upon the ground, and the train went puffing on its way; not, however, until the guard had taken Podgers' name and address, with a view to future proceedings through the medium of the law.

"I had no idea that the O'Rooneys were such swells," observed my companion as we entered, through the massive and gilded gates, to the avenue which sweeps up to Ballybawn House. "Somehow or other, I wish I hadn't fetched Albatross, or that you hadn't spoken about him;" and Podgers threw a gloomy glance in the direction of the pointer, who lay at our feet in the bottom of the trap, looking as if he had been on the rampage for the previous month, or had just emerged from the asylum for the destitute of his species.

"He won't do us much credit as regards his appearance," I said; "but if he is all that you say as a sporting dog--of which I have my doubts--it will make amends for anything."

Podgers muttered something unintelligible, and I saw dismal forebodings written in every line of his countenance.

Mr O'Rooney received us at the hall-door. Beside him crouched two magnificent setters, with coats as glossy as mirrors, and a bearing as aristocratic as that of Bethgellart.

"Where's the dog?" asked our host, after a warm greeting. "I hope that you have brought him."

I must confess that I would have paid a considerable sum of money to have been enabled to reply in the negative. I muttered that we had indeed fetched him, but that owing to his having met with some accidents _en voyage_, his personal appearance was considerably diminished; but that we were not to judge books by their covers.

As if to worry, vex, and mortify us, Albatross declined to stir from the bottom of the trap, from whence he was subsequently rooted out in a most undignified and anti-sporting way.

The expression upon Mr O'Rooney's face, when at length the animal, badger-like, was drawn, was that of an intense astonishment, combined with a mirth convulsively compressed. The servants commenced to titter, and the smart little gentleman who tooled us over actually laughed outright.

Albatross was partly covered with mud and offal. His eyes were watery, and the lids were of a dull pink, imparting a sort of maudlin idiotcy to their expression. His right ear stood up defiantly, whilst his left lay flat upon his jowl, and his tail seemed to have disappeared altogether, so tightly had he, under the combined influence of fear and dejection, secured it between his legs.

"He's not very handsome," observed our host laughingly, "but I dare say he will take the shine out of York and Lancaster, by-and-by," pointing to the two setters as he spoke.

This hint was enough for Albatross, as no sooner had the words escaped the lips of O'Rooney than, with a yowl which sent the rooks whirling from their nests, he darted from the trap, and, making a charge at York, sent that aristocratic animal flying up the avenue in a paroxysm of terror and despair; whilst Lancaster, paralysed by the suddenness of the onslaught, allowed himself to be seized by the neck, and worried, as a cat worries a mouse, without as much as moving a muscle in self-defence.

This was too much. I had borne with this hideous animal too long. My patience was utterly exhausted, and all the bad temper in my composition began to boil up. I had placed myself under an obligation to a comparative stranger for the purpose of beholding his magnificent and valuable dogs scared and worried by a worthless cur. Seizing upon a garden-rake that lay against the wall, I dealt at Albatross what ought to have proved a crushing blow, which he artfully eluded. It only grazed him, and fell, with almost its full swing and strength, upon the passive setter, who set up a series of unearthly shrieks, almost human in their painful shrillness.

"Chain up that dog at once!" shouted O'Rooney in fierce and angry tones, "and look to Lancaster. I fear that his ribs are broken. This is very unfortunate," he added, addressing himself to me.

"I don't know what's come over the animal!" exclaimed Podgers. "I wish to heaven I had never seen him. I'll part with him to-morrow, if I have to give him to the Zoological Gardens for the bears."

Luckily, it turned out, upon examination, that Lancaster was not in any way seriously injured. This put us into somewhat better spirits, so that by the time breakfast was concluded we were on good terms with each other, and even with the wretched Albatross, in whom we still maintained a sort of sickly confidence. Later on we started for the turnips, Mr O'Rooney and Podgers in front--the latter hauling Albatross along as if he was a sack of wheat; whilst I brought up the rear with a gamekeeper and York.

"I don't think that animal is used to be out at all, at all," observed the keeper.

"I'm afraid you are quite right," I replied; "but I hear that he is a very good sporting dog."

"Sportin'! Begorra, he'll give yez sport enough before the day is half over," said the keeper, with a gloomy grin.

"There is always a covey to be found in this field," observed our host to Podgers, "so we'll give your dog the first chance."

"I--I--I'd rather you'd let him see what your dog will do," blurted Podgers.

"Oh, dear no!" returned Mr O'Rooney. "Let him go now. You'll take the first shot."

Very reluctantly indeed did Podgers unloose his pointer, uttering into the dog's ear in a low tone the most terrific and appalling threats should he fail to prove himself all that my fancy had painted him. With a loud bark of defiance Albatross darted away, scurrying through the turnips at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, utterly unmindful of whistle, call, blandishment, or threat, appearing now in one direction, now in another, and barking as though it had been part of its training.

"Stop that dog," cried our host, "he won't leave us a bird," as covey after covey of partridges rose beyond range and flew away, Albatross joyously barking after them.

"You said I was to have the first shot, Mr O'Rooney," said Podgers, in a tone full of solemnity.

"Certainly, if you can get it; which I doubt," was the curt reply.

Albatross had dashed within twenty yards of us, and was plunging off in another direction, when Podgers ran forward, raised his gun. Bang!

Albatross was sent to the happy hunting-grounds of his race.

"He frightened the partridge," observed Podgers, proceeding to reload; "_let him frighten the crows now_."

THE DEAD HEAT

No, never had there been such a state of excitement in any ball-room before, when it became known that Captain O'Rooney had entrapped Lieutenant Charles Fortescue, of the Stiffshire Regiment, into a thousand guineas match P.P., owners up, twelve stone each, and four miles over the stiffest country in Galway.

The match had been made at the supper-table, after the ladies had left; but nevertheless, the news had been carried to them, and they were furious.

"Fancy," said one, a tall, handsome brunette, "that that little wretched bandy-legged O'Rooney should have got round our handsome friend in such a mean way. He is jealous and disgusted with Fortescue's waltzing, and he _is_ the best waltzer in Ireland."

"I'll make him a set of colours to ride in," returned the toast of five counties, the beautiful Alice Gwynne. "I never made any before, but 'there's luck in odd numbers, says Rory O'More,' and so he is sure to win in them."

"Too bad," exclaimed the gray-haired Colonel of Fortescue's regiment to some gentlemen standing by him at the supper-table, "to have hounded the lad into it. O'Rooney is a noted steeplechase rider, and my boy" (he always called the youngsters of his regiment his boys), "though a workman across country, never rode a race in his life; but I hear that Captain O'Rooney has the character of looking up the Griffs."

"Faith, Colonel, ye are about right there," said a jolly-looking young Irishman; "he is just the boy that can do that same; he is mad now because Fortescue's English horse cut him down to-day, and pounded him--a thing that has never been done before."

"Bedad, you're out there, Mat," put in another; "I'd be after thinking it is because the Leaftenent has been making mighty strong running entirely with Alice Gwynne all this blessed night. O'Rooney, by my faith, does not like _that_, devil a hap'orth; he considers himself the favoured one--the consated spalpeen."

"He the favoured one!" remarked big H----, of Fortescue's regiment; "why, he cannot suppose he would have a ghost of a chance with that pug nose and whisky-toddy countenance of his against Fortescue of ours. Why, Old Nick himself could not boast of an uglier face than Pat Rooney. Fortescue is about the handsomest and nicest fellow in the service, and though only a poor man, yet there are devilish few girls, at least of any taste, who would give him the 'cold shoulder.'"

The conversation was put an end to by the redoubtable Captain O'Rooney they were descanting on, and with whom all seemed to be on such bad terms, walking towards them.

"I will make one endeavour now," said the Colonel, "to put a stop to this match."

"Captain O'Rooney," said he, as that gentleman joined them, "I am sorry to hear of this proposed steeplechase, and for such a sum. Mr Fortescue is a young man, and has acted very foolishly; moreover, though he holds the post of adjutant, he has little, I know, but his pay, and such a loss as a thousand pounds would seriously inconvenience him. Let me recommend, Captain O'Rooney, that Fortescue give you a hundred pounds to-morrow morning and draw the bet. What say you, gentlemen all, is the proposal fair?"

"Nothing fairer," they exclaimed.

"See now, Colonel," said Captain O'Rooney, "let us hear what Mr Fortescue says: he is not here; he'll be found in the ball-room, I'm after thinking."

"True for ye, Captain dear," said the jolly-looking young Irishman before alluded to. "Divil a bit," he continued, with a sly and malicious twinkle of his blue eye, "is Fortescue in the ball. Be jabers, he is seated in the card-room alone by Alice Gwynne, playing with her bouquet and fan. I'll go and fetch him; but it's a pity to disturb him. I'd almost take my oath he has been asking her to be Mrs Fortescue, and by my soul I don't think she has said no." So saying, the young man, without giving the other time to answer, vanished from the room.

"What is it, Colonel?" said Fortescue, coming in almost immediately after.

"See now," said O'Rooney, interrupting him; "the Colonel says this is a foolish match we have entered into, and proposes that ye should pay me a hundred down to-morrow to let ye off. What d'ye say?"

"What do I say?" replied the young man; "why, I'll do anything the Colonel likes. I think it is a foolish match. I was excited and out of humour when I made it. I'm better now, and if you like to take a hundred and draw, why I'll send you a cheque to-morrow morning for the amount, or run you for a hundred, which you like."

"See, now," said the Captain, his naturally red face getting purple with anger and excitement. "I've heard ye both--the Colonel and yourself; now both of ye hear me. If ye were to offer me nine hundred and ninety-nine pounds, d--n me if I'd take it, for by the Rock of Cashel, I'll lick ye and break your heart and neck over the country; and see now, Fortescue," he continued, "steer clear of the heiress."

"What do you mean, sir," retorted the young man, firing up. "Steer clear of the heiress? you forget yourself; do you presume to put a lady in the question?" and saying this, he turned away.

"All devilish fine," said O'Rooney, sticking his hands in his pockets and sauntering away from the supper-table, humming a verse of Harry Lorrequer's well-known song:--

"The King of Oude Is mighty proud, And so were onst the Caysars (Cæsars); But ould Giles Eyre Would make them stare, Av he had them with the Blazers.

"To the devil I'd fling--ould Runjeet Singh He's only a prince in a small way; And knows nothing at all of a six-foot wall, Oh! he'd never do for Galway."

"Won't he?" muttered Fortescue to himself, as he caught the last words, "perhaps I'll show you he will." If the Captain had not been so blind with passion, he might have heard the gallant Adjutant singing _sotto voce_ a verse of a song from the same author, as he strode carelessly from the room:--

"Put his arm round her waist, Gave ten kisses at laste, 'Oh!' says he, 'you're my Molly Malone, 'My own, 'Oh!' says he, 'you're my Molly Malone!'"

What did he mean?

"By the great gun of Athlone, I'm mighty glad entirely they're both gone from the room," said a hard-riding Galway squire, as the illustrious Captain O'Rooney disappeared from sight. "I thought there was an illigant row brewing. Better as it is. Where O'Rooney is to get the coin from if he loses, divil a one of me knows. He's in 'Quare Street' long ago. Never mind, boys; let us have the groceries. 'O Punch! you are my darling,' and the devil fly away with dull care. Now Colonel," he continued, "upon my conscience, as O'Rooney won't listen to reason, you must look after Fortescue's interests. O'Rooney will endeavour to pick out a country. I mean he will go building up walls, and so on. You must have your own way a little, or, begorra, he'll do as he likes entirely. Now, there is one thing that will beat him if anything will--you must insist on that, or I would not give a trauneen for Fortescue's chance--and that is" (he dropped his voice to a whisper) _one_ if not _two_ WATER-jumps; if anything will stop Mad Moll it is WATER."

"It shall be done," said the Colonel; "I'll see that the lad is not taken advantage of." And the old field-officer kept his word, as will be seen in the sequel.

O'Rooney was greatly disturbed when he knew there were to be one or more water-jumps. He fought hard and gallantly against it; but the Colonel was obdurate. "By Gad, sir," said he, "you do not want it entirely your own way, do you? I have not interfered with the country in any way. I have said nothing as to the six-foot wall you have built up, and others equally dangerous, and now you cavil at a paltry ditch."

"Ditch do ye call it, Colonel? fifteen feet of water, hurdled and staked, a ditch, and another of eleven. By my troth, no such like ditches are found between this and Ballinasloe. But never mind. Glory be to Moses, I'll get over them. And then, h--ll to my soul, if the English horse will ever come near Mad Moll's girths again."

"We think nothing of nineteen feet, sir," said the Colonel. "In England, fifteen feet is nothing; but my youngster shall have a chance."

Great was the excitement throughout the country--indeed, in all parts of Ireland. Such a match had not been known for years--"a thousand pounds!" What could the English soldier have been thinking of! The nags went on well in their training, closely guarded by their respective admirers. The English horse took to wall-jumping beautifully; but it was doubted whether, even with his great turn of speed, he had the foot of the Irish mare--a clipper. Then again, though Fortescue was a cool and daring horseman, he had not the experience of the Captain, who had ridden many a hard-contested race before, across country and over the flat.

The stakes had been made good and deposited according to agreement with the Colonel. The Captain had found friends to share in the bet, for though he was generally disliked, yet they had confidence in his horse and his horsemanship. Fortescue, too, had friends, nor had his commanding officer been idle. Men from his own regiment had come forward, so all he stood to lose was two hundred and fifty; this and other matters made him sanguine and light-hearted. In addition to all, he had received a beautiful cap and jacket from Miss Gwynne.

The sporting papers, English and Irish, teemed with the forthcoming match. "Lieut. Charles Fortescue's bay horse Screwdriver, aged, against Capt. O'Rooney's chestnut mare Mad Moll, six years old, for ONE THOUSAND guineas a side," appeared in the _County Chronicle_.

The excitement was intense. Such a stiff bit of country had not been seen or ridden over for years. The betting would have been decidedly in favour of the Captain, but his mare's well-known dislike to water prevented anything like odds being laid--so they were both about equal favourites.

"By George, old fellow!" said one of Fortescue's chums to him one morning, some six days previous to the race, "I really think your chance is becoming more rosy every hour. The more O'Rooney's mare sees the water the less she likes it. A sergeant in my company, a Galway man, has a country cousin in the barracks who knows all about it. Just go to Sergeant Blake," he said, turning to a bugler passing by, "and tell him to come here, and bring his cousin with him. Mr Fortescue wishes to see him."

The man soon appeared. "Salute your supareor," said the Sergeant, as he squared his heels. "Touch your caubeen."

"Arrah, now, Patrick, wasn't I after doing it?"

"Well, do it at onst, ye murdering ruffian, and tell all ye know."