Part 8

“'Och, och!' says Jack, striving to look, the sly thief, as if she had promised to help him--'I only wish I was a king, and, by the powers, I know who would be my queen, any how; for it's your own sweet lady--savourneen dheelish--I say, amn't I bound to you for a year and a day longer, for promising to give me a lift, as well as for what you done yesterday?'

“'Take care, Jack,' says she, smiling, however, at his ingenuity in striving to trap her into a promise, 'I don't think I made any promise of assistance.'

“'You didn't,' says Jack, wiping his face with the skirt of his coat, ''cause why?--you see pocket-handkerchiefs weren't invented in them times: 'why, thin, may I never live to see yesterday, if there's not as much rale beauty in that smile that's diverting itself about them sweet-breathing lips of yours, and in them two eyes of light that's breaking both their hearts laughing at me, this minute, as would encourage any poor fellow to expect a good turn from you--that is, whin you could do it, without hurting or harming yourself; for it's he would be the right rascal that could take it, if it would injure a silken hair of your head.'

“'Well,' said the lady, with a mighty roguish smile, 'I shall call you home to your dinner, at all events.'

“When Jack went back from his breakfast, he didn't slave himself after the filly toy more, but walked about to view the demesne, and the avenues, and the green walks, and nice temples, and fish-ponds, and rookeries, and everything, in short, that was worth seeing. Towards dinner-time, howiver, he began to have an eye to the way the sweet crathur was to come, and sure enough she that wasn't one minute late.

“'Well, Jack,' says she, 'I'll keep you no longer in doubt:' for the tender-hearted crathur saw that Jack, although he didn't wish to let an to her, was fretting every now and then about the odd hook and the bloody room--'So, Jack,' says she, 'although I didn't promise, yet I'll perform;' and with that she pulled a small ivory whistle out of her pocket, and gave three blasts on it that brought the wild filly up to her very hand, as quick as the wind. She then took the bridle, and threw it over the baste's neck, giving her up, at the same time, to Jack; 'You needn't fear now, Jack,' says she, 'you'll find her as quiet as a lamb, and as tame as you wish; as proof of it, just walk before her, and you will see she will follow you to any part of the field.'

“Jack, you maybe sure, paid her as many and as sweet compliments as he could, and never heed one from his country for being able to say something toothsome to the ladies. At any rate, if he laid it on thick the day before, he gave two or three additional coats this time, and the innocent soul went away smiling, as usual.

“When Jack brought the filly home, the dark fellow, his master, if dark before, was a perfect thunder-cloud this night: bedad, he was nothing less than near bursting with vexation, bekaise the thieving ould sinner intended to have Jack's head upon the hook, but he fell short in his reckoning now as well as before. Jack sung 'Love among the Roses,' and the 'Black Joke,' to help him into better timper.

“'Jack,' says he, striving to make himself speak pleasant to him, 'you've got two difficult tasks over you; but you know the third time's the charm--take care of the next.'

“'No matter about that,' says Jack, speaking up to him stiff and stout, bekase, as the dog tould him, he knew he had a friend in coort--'let's hear what it is, any how.'

“'To-morrow, then,' says the other, 'you're to rob a crane's nest, on the top of a beech-tree which grows in the middle of a little island in the lake that you saw yesterday in my demesne; you're to have neither boat, nor oar, nor any kind of conveyance, but just as you stand; and if you fail to bring me the eggs, or if you break one of them,--look here!' says he, again pointing to the odd hook, for all this discoorse took place in the bloody room.

“'Good again,' says Jack; 'if I fail I know my doom.'

“'No, you don't, you spalpeen,' says the other, getting vexed with him entirely, 'for I'll roast you till you're half dead, and ate my dinner off you after; and, what is more than that, you blackguard, you must sing the 'Black Joke' all the time for my amusement.'

“'Div'l fly away with you,' thought Jack, 'but you're fond of music, you vagabone.'

“The next morning Jack was going round and round the lake, trying about the edge of it, if he could find any place shallow enough to wade in; but he might as well go to wade the say, and what was worst of all, if he attempted to swim, it would be like a tailor's goose, straight to the bottom; so he kept himself safe on dry land, still expecting a visit from the 'lovely crathur,' but, bedad, his good luck failed him for wanst, for instead of seeing her coming over to him, so mild and sweet, who does he obsarve steering at a dog's trot, but his ould friend the smoking cur. 'Confusion to that cur,' says Jack to himself, 'I know now there's some bad fortune before me, or he wouldn't be coming acrass me.'

“'Come home to your breakfast, Jack,' says the dog, walking up to him, 'it's breakfast time.'

“'Ay,' says Jack, scratching his head, 'it's no matter whether I do or not, for I bleeve my head's hardly worth a flat-dutch cabbage at the present speaking.'

“'Why, man, it was never worth so much,' says the baste, pulling out his pipe and putting it in his mouth, when it lit at once.

“'Take care of yourself,' says Jack, quite desperate,--for he thought he was near the end of his tether,--'take care of yourself, you dirty cur, or maybe I might take a gintleman's toe from your tail.'

“'You had better keep a straight tongue in your head,' says four-legs, 'while it's on your shoulders, or I'll break every bone in your skin--Jack, you're a fool,' says he, checking himself, and speaking kindly to him--'you're a fool; didn't I tell you the other day to do what you were bid, and keep never minding?'

“'Well,' thought Jack to himself, 'there's no use in making him any more my enemy than he is--particularly as I'm in such a hobble.'

“'You lie,' says the dog, as if Jack had spoken out to him, wherein he only thought the words to himself, 'you lie,' says he, 'I'm not, nor never was, your enemy, if you knew but all.'

“'I beg your honor's pardon,' answers Jack, 'for being so smart with your honor, but, bedad, if you were in my case,--if you expected your master to roast you alive,--eat his dinner of your body,--make you sing the 'Black Joke,' by way of music for him; and, to crown all, know that your head was to be stuck upon a hook after--maybe you would be a little short, in your temper, as well as your neighbors.'

“'Take heart, Jack,' says the other, laying his fore claw as knowingly as ever along his nose, and winking slyly at Jack, didn't I tell you that you had a friend in coort--the day's not past yet, so cheer up, who knows but there is luck before you still?'

“'Why, thin,' says Jack, getting a little cheerful, and wishing to crack a joke with him, 'but your honor's very fond of the pipe!' 'Oh! don't you know, Jack,' says he, 'that that's the fashion at present among my tribe; sure all my brother puppies smoke now, and a man might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion, you know.'

“When they drew near home, they got quite thick entirely; 'Now,' says Jack, in a good-humored way, 'if you can give me a lift in robbing this crane's nest, do; at any rate, I'm sure your honor won't be my enemy. I know you have too much good nature in your face to be one that wouldn't help a lame dog over a style--that is,' says he, taking himself up for fear of offending the other,--'I'm sure you'd be always inclined to help the weak side.'

“'Thank you for the compliment,' says, the dog; 'but didn't I tell you that you have a friend in coort?'

“When Jack went back to the lake, he-could only sit and look sorrowfully at the tree, or walls; about the edge of it, without being able to do anything else. He spent the whole day this way, till dinner-time, when what would you have of it, but he sees the darlin' coming out to him, as fair and as blooming as an angel. His heart, you may be sure, got up to his mouth, for he knew she would be apt to take him out of his difficulties. When she came up--

“'Now, Jack,' says she, 'there is not a minute to be lost, for I'm watch'd; and if it's discovered that I gave you any assistance, we will both be destroyed.'

“'Oh, murder sheery!' (* Murder everlasting) says Jack, 'fly back, avourneen machree--for rather than anything should happen you, I'd lose fifty-lives.'

“'No,' says she, 'I think I'll be able to-get you over this, as well as the rest; so have a good heart, and be faithful' 'That's it,' replied Jack, 'that's it, acushla--my own _correcthur_ to a shaving; I've a heart worth its weight in bank notes, and a more faithful boy isn't alive this day nor I'm to yez all, ye darlings of the world.'

“She then pulled a small white wand out of her pocket, struck the lake, and there was the prettiest green ridge across it to the foot of the tree that ever eye beheld. 'Now,' says she, turning her back to Jack, and stooping down to do something that he couldn't see, 'Take these,' giving him her ten toes, 'put them against the tree, and you will have steps to carry you to the top, but be sure, for your life and mine, not to forget any of them. If you do, my life will be taken tomorrow morning, for your master puts on my slippers with his own hands.'

“Jack was now going to swear that he would give up the whole thing and surrender his head at once; but when life looked at her feet, and saw no appearance of blood, he went over without more to do, and robbed the nest, taking down the eggs one by one, that he mightn't brake them. There was no end to his joy, as he secured the last egg; he instantly took down the toes, one after another, save and except the little one of the left foot, which in his joy and hurry he forgot entirely. He then returned by the green ridge to the shore, and accordingly as he went along, it melted away into water behind him.

“'Jack,' says the charmer, 'I hope you forgot none of my toes.'

“'Is it me?' says Jack, quite sure that he had them all--'arrah, catch any one from my country making a blunder of that kind.'

“'Well,' says she, 'let us see; so, taking the toes, she placed them on again, just as if they had never been off. But, lo and behold! on coming to the last of the left foot, it wasn't forthcoming. 'Oh! Jack, Jack,' says she, 'you have destroyed me; to-morrow morning your master will notice the want of this toe, and that instant I'll be put to death.'

“'Lave that to me,' says Jack; 'by the powers, you won't lose a drop of your darling blood for it. Have you got a pen-knife about you? and I'll soon show you how you won't.'

“'What do you want with the knife?' she inquired.

“'What do I want with it?--Why to give you the best toe on both my feet, for the one I lost on you; do you think I'd suffer you to want a toe, and I having ten thumping ones at your sarvice?--I'm not the man, you beauty you, for such a shabby trick as that comes to.'

“'But you forget,' says the lady, who was a little cooler than Jack, 'that none of yours would fit me.'

“'And must you die to-morrow, _acushla?_' asked Jack, in desperation.

“'As sure as the sun rises,' answered the lady 'for Your master would know at once that it was by my toes the nest was robbed.'

“'By the powers,' observed Jack, 'he's one of the greatest ould vag--I mane, isn't he a terrible man, out and out, for a father?'

“'Father!' says the darling,--'he's not my father, Jack, he only wishes to marry me and if I'm not able to outdo him before three days more, it's decreed that he must.

“When Jack heard this, surely the Irishman must come out; there he stood, and began to wipe his eyes with the skirt of his coat, making out as if he was crying, the thief of the world. 'What's the matter with you?' she asked.

“'All!' says Jack, 'you darling, I couldn't find it in my heart to desave you; for I have no way at home to keep a lady like you, in proper style, at all at all; I would only bring I you into poverty, and since you wish to know what ails me, I'm vexed that I'm not rich for your sake; and next, that that thieving ould villain's to have you; and, by the powers, I'm crying for both these misfortunes together.'

“The lady could not help being touched and plaised with Jack's tinderness and ginerosity; so, says she, 'Don't be cast down, Jack, come or go what will, I won't marry him--I'd die first. Do you go home as usual; but take care and don't sleep at all this night. Saddle the wild filly--meet me under the whitethorn bush at the end of the lawn, and we'll both leave him for ever. If you're willin' to marry me, don't let poverty distress you, for I have more money than we'll know what to do with.'

“Jack's voice now began to tremble in airnest, with downright love and tinderness, as good right it had; so he promised to do everything just as she bid him, and then went home with a dacint appetite enough to his supper.

“You may be sure the ould fellow looked darker and grimmer than ever at Jack: but what could he do? Jack had done his duty? so he sat before the fire, and sung 'Love among the Roses,' and the 'Black Joke,' with a stouter and a lighter heart than ever, while the black chap, could have seen him skivered.

“When midnight came, Jack, who kept a hawk's eye to the night, was at the hawthorn with the wild filly, saddled and all--more betoken, she wasn't a bit wild then, but as tame as a dog. Off they set, like Erin-go-bragh, Jack and the lady, and never pulled bridle till it was one o'clock next day, when they stopped at an inn, and had some refreshment. They then took to the road again, full speed; however, they hadn't gone far, when they heard a great noise behind them, and the tramp of horses galloping like mad. 'Jack,' says the darling, on hearing the hubbub, 'look behind you, and see what's this.'

“'Och! by the elevens,' says Jack, 'we're done at last; it's the dark fellow, and half the country after us.' 'Put your hand,' says she, 'in the filly's right ear, and tell me what you find in it.' 'Nothing at all,' says Jack, 'but a weeshy bit of a dry stick.' 'Throw it over your left shoulder says she, 'and see what will happen.' Jack did so at once, and there was a great grove of thick trees growing so close to one another, that a dandy could scarcely get his arm betwixt them. 'Now,' said she, 'we are safe for another day.' 'Well,' said Jack, as he pushed on the filly, 'you're the jewel of the world, sure enough; and maybe it's you that won't live happy when we get to the Jim of the Ocean.'

“As soon as dark-face saw what happened, he was obliged to scour the country for hatchets and hand-saws, and all kinds of sharp instruments, to hew himself and his men a passage through the grove. As the saying goes, many hands make light work, and sure enough, it wasn't long till they had cleared a way for themselves, thick as it was, and set off with double speed after Jack and the lady.

“The next day, about' one o'clock, he and she were after taking another small refreshment of roast-beef and porther, and pushing on, as before, when they heard the same tramping behind them, only it was ten times louder.

“'Here they are again,' says Jack; 'and I'm afeard they'll come up with us at last.'

“'If they do,' says she, 'they'll put us to death on the spot; but we must try somehow to stop them another day, if we can; search the filly's right ear again, and let me know what you find in it.'

“Jack pulled out a little three-cornered pebble, telling her that it was all he got; 'well,' says she, 'throw it over your left shoulder like the stick.'

“No sooner said than done; and there was a great chain of high, sharp rocks in the way of divel-face and all his clan. 'Now,' says she, 'we have gained another day.' 'Tundher-and-turf!' says Jack, 'what's this for, at all, at all?--but wait till I get you in the Immerald Isle, for this, and if you don't enjoy happy days any how, why I'm not sitting before you on this horse, by the same token that it's not a horse at all, but a filly though; if you don't get the hoith of good aiting and drinking--lashings of the best wine and whisky that the land can afford, my name's not Jack. We'll build a castle, and you'll have upstairs and downstairs--a coach and six to ride in--lots of sarvints to attend on you, and full and plinty of everything; not to mintion--hem!--not to mintion that you'll have a husband that the fairest lady in the land might be proud of,' says he, stretching himself up in the saddle, and giving the filly a jag of the spurs, to show off a bit; although the coaxing rogue knew that the money which was to do all this was her own. At any rate, they spent the remainder of this day pleasantly enough, still moving on, though, as fast as they could. Jack, every now and then, would throw an eye behind, as if to watch their pursuers, wherein, if the truth was known, it was to get a peep at the beautiful glowing face and warm lips that were breathing all kinds of _fragrancies_ about him. I'll warrant he didn't envy the king upon his throne, when he felt the honeysuckle of her breath, like the smell of Father Ned's orchard there, of a May morning.

“When Fardorougha (* the dark man) found the great chain of rocks before him, you may set it down that he was likely to blow up with vexation; but, for all that, the first thing he blew up was the rocks--and that he might lose little or no time in doing it, he collected all the gunpowder and crowbars, spades and pickaxes, that could be found for miles about him, and set to it, working as if it was with inch of candle. For half a day there was nothing but boring and splitting, and driving of iron wedges, and blowing up pieces of rocks as big as little houses, until, by hard, labor, they made a passage for themselves sufficient to carry them over. They then set off again, full speed; and great advantage they had over the poor filly that Jack and the lady rode on, for their horses were well rested, and hadn't to carry double, like Jack's. The next day they spied Jack and his beautiful companion, just about a quarter of a mile before them.

“'Now,' says dark-brow, 'I'll make any man's fortune forever that will bring me them two, either living or dead, but, if possible, alive: so, spur on, for whoever secures them, man, woman, or child, is a made man, but, above all, make no noise.'

“It was now divil take the hindmost among the bloody pack--every spur was red with blood, and every horse smoking. Jack and the lady were jogging on acrass a green field, not suspecting that the rest were so near them, and talking over the pleasant days they would spind together in Ireland, when they hears the hue-and-cry once more at their very heels.

“'Quick as lightning, Jack,' says she, 'or we're lost--the right ear and the left shoulder, like thought--they're not three lengths of the filly from us!'

“But Jack knew his business; for just as a long, grim-looking villain, with a great rusty rapier in his hand, was within a single leap of them, and quite sure of either killing or making prisoners of them both, Jack flings a little drop of green water that he got in the filly's ear over his left shoulder, and in an instant there was a deep, dark gulf, filled with black, pitchy-looking water between them. The lady now desired Jack to pull up the filly a bit, that they might see what would become of the dark fellow; but just as they turned round, the ould nagur set 'spurs to his horse, and, in a fit of desperation, plunged himself, horse and all, into the gulf, and was never seen or heard of more. The rest that were with him went home, and began to quarrel about his wealth, and kept murdering and killing one another, until a single vagabond of them wasn't left alive to enjoy it.

“When Jack saw what happened, and that the blood-thirsty ould villain got what he desarved so richly, he was as happy as a prince, and ten times happier than most of them as the world goes, and she was every bit as delighted. 'We have nothing more to fear,' said the darling that put them all down so cleverly, seeing that she was but a woman; but, bedad, it's she was the right sort of a woman--'all our dangers are now over, at least, all yours are; regarding myself,' says she, 'there's a trial before me yet, and that trial, Jack, depends upon your faithfulness and constancy.'

“'On me, is it?--Och, then, murder! isn't it a poor case entirely, that I have no way of showing you that you may depind your life upon me, only by telling you so?'

“'I do depend upon you,' says she--'and now, as you love me, do not, when the trial comes, forget her that saved you out of so many troubles, and made you such a great and wealthy man.'

“The foregoing part of this Jack could well understand, but the last part of it, making collusion to the wealth, was a little dark, as he thought, bekase, he hadn't fingered any of it at the time: still, he knew she was truth to the back-bone, and wouldn't desave him. They hadn't travelled much farther, When Jack snaps his fingers with a 'Whoo! by the powers, there it is, my darling--there it is, at long last!'

“'There is what, Jack?' said she, surprised, as well she might, at his mirth and happiness--'There is what?' says she. 'Cheer up!' says Jack; 'there it is, my darling,--the Shannon!--as soon as we get to the other side of it, we'll be in ould Ireland once more.'

“There was no end to Jack's good humor, when he crossed the Shannon; and she was not a bit displeased to see him so happy. They had now no enemies to fear, were in a civilized country, and among green fields and well-bred people. In this way they travelled at their ase, till they came within a few miles of the town of Knockimdowny, near which Jack's mother lived.

“'Now, Jack,' says she, 'I told you that I would make you rich. You know the rock beside your mother's cabin; in the east end of that rock there is a loose stone, covered over with gray moss, just two feet below the cleft out of which the hanging rowan-tree grows--pull that stone out, and you will find more goold than would make a duke. Neither speak to any person, nor let any living thing touch your lips till you come back to me, or you'll forget that you ever saw me, and I'll lie left poor and friendless in a strange, country.'

“'Why, thin, _manim asthee hu_,' (* My soul's within you.) says Jack, 'but the best way to guard against that, is to touch your own sweet lips at the present time,' says he, giving her a smack that you'd hear, of a calm evening, acrass a couple of fields. Jack set off to touch the money, with such speed that when he fell he scarcely waited to rise again; he was soon at the rock, any how, and without either doubt or disparagement, there was a cleft of real goolden guineas, as fresh as daisies. The first thing he did, after he had filled his pockets with them, was to look if his mother's cabin was to the fore; and there surely it was, as snug as ever, with the same dacent column of smoke rowling from the chimbley.

“'Well,' thought he, 'I'll just stale over to the door-cheek, and peep in to get one sight of my poor mother; then I'll throw her in a handful of these guineas, and take to my scrapers.'