V
LISHEEN RACES, SECOND-HAND
It may or may not be agreeable to have attained the age ofthirty-eight, but, judging from old photographs, the privilege of beingnineteen has also its drawbacks. I turned over page after page of anancient book in which were enshrined portraits of the friends of myyouth, singly, in David and Jonathan couples, and in groups in which I,as it seemed to my mature and possibly jaundiced perception, alwayscontrived to look the most immeasurable young bounder of the lot. Ourfaces were fat, and yet I cannot remember ever having been consideredfat in my life; we indulged in low-necked shirts, in "Jemima" ties withdiagonal stripes; we wore coats that seemed three sizes too small, andtrousers that were three sizes too big; we also wore small whiskers.
I stopped at last at one of the David and Jonathan memorial portraits.Yes, here was the object of my researches; this stout and earnestlyromantic youth was Leigh Kelway, and that fatuous and chubby youngperson seated on the arm of his chair was myself. Leigh Kelway was ayoung man ardently believed in by a large circle of admirers, headed byhimself and seconded by me, and for some time after I had left Magdalenfor Sandhurst, I maintained a correspondence with him on large andabstract subjects. This phase of our friendship did not survive; Iwent soldiering to India, and Leigh Kelway took honours and movedsuitably on into politics, as is the duty of an earnest young Radicalwith useful family connections and an independent income. Since then Ihad at intervals seen in the papers the name of the Honourable BasilLeigh Kelway mentioned as a speaker at elections, as a writer ofthoughtful articles in the reviews, but we had never met, and nothingcould have been less expected by me than the letter, written from Mrs.Raverty's Hotel, Skebawn, in which he told me he was making a tour inIreland with Lord Waterbury, to whom he was private secretary. LordWaterbury was at present having a few days' fishing near Killarney, andhe himself, not being a fisherman, was collecting statistics for hischief on various points connected with the Liquor Question in Ireland.He had heard that I was in the neighbourhood, and was kind enough toadd that it would give him much pleasure to meet me again.
With a stir of the old enthusiasm I wrote begging him to be my guestfor as long as it suited him, and the following afternoon he arrived atShreelane. The stout young friend of my youth had changedconsiderably. His important nose and slightly prominent teethremained, but his wavy hair had withdrawn intellectually from histemples; his eyes had acquired a statesmanlike absence of expression,and his neck had grown long and bird-like. It was his first visit toIreland, as he lost no time in telling me, and he and his chief hadalready collected much valuable information on the subject to whichthey had dedicated the Easter recess. He further informed me that hethought of popularising the subject in a novel, and therefore intendedto, as he put it, "master the brogue" before his return.
During the next few days I did my best for Leigh Kelway. I turned himloose on Father Scanlan; I showed him Mohona, our champion village,that boasts fifteen public-houses out of twenty buildings of sorts anda railway station; I took him to hear the prosecution of a publican forselling drink on a Sunday, which gave him an opportunity of studyingperjury as a fine art, and of hearing a lady, on whom police suspicionjustly rested, profoundly summed up by the sergeant as "a woman who hadth' appairance of having knocked at a back door."
The net result of these experiences has not yet been given to the worldby Leigh Kelway. For my own part, I had at the end of three daysarrived at the conclusion that his society, when combined with anote-book and a thirst for statistics, was not what I used to find itat Oxford. I therefore welcomed a suggestion from Mr. Flurry Knox thatwe should accompany him to some typical country races, got up by thefarmers at a place called Lisheen, some twelve miles away. It was theworst road in the district, the races of the most grossly unorthodoxcharacter; in fact, it was the very place for Leigh Kelway to collectimpressions of Irish life, and in any case it was a blessed opportunityof disposing of him for the day.
In my guest's attire next morning I discerned an unbending from therole of cabinet minister towards that of sportsman; the outlines of thenote-book might be traced in his breast pocket, but traversing it wasthe strap of a pair of field-glasses, and his light grey suit was smartenough for Goodwood.
Flurry was to drive us to the races at one o'clock, and we walked toTory Cottage by the short cut over the hill, in the sunny beauty of anApril morning. Up to the present the weather had kept me in a more orless apologetic condition; any one who has entertained a guest in thecountry knows the unjust weight of responsibility that rests on theshoulders of the host in the matter of climate, and Leigh Kelway, aftertwo drenchings, had become sarcastically resigned to what I felt heregarded as my mismanagement.
Flurry took us into the house for a drink and a biscuit, to keep usgoing, as he said, till "we lifted some luncheon out of the Castle Knoxpeople at the races," and it was while we were thus engaged that thefirst disaster of the day occurred. The dining-room door was open, soalso was the window of the little staircase just outside it, andthrough the window travelled sounds that told of the close proximity ofthe stable-yard; the clattering of hoofs on cobble stones, and voicesuplifted in loud conversation. Suddenly from this region there arose ascreech of the laughter peculiar to kitchen flirtation, followed by theclank of a bucket, the plunging of a horse, and then an uproar ofwheels and galloping hoofs. An instant afterwards Flurry's chestnutcob, in a dogcart, dashed at full gallop into view, with the reinsstreaming behind him, and two men in hot pursuit. Almost before I hadtime to realise what had happened, Flurry jumped through thehalf-opened window of the dining-room like a clown at a pantomime, andjoined in the chase; but the cob was resolved to make the most of hischance, and went away down the drive and out of sight at a pace thatdistanced every one save the kennel terrier, who sped in shriekingecstasy beside him.
"Oh merciful hour!" exclaimed a female voice behind me. Leigh Kelwayand I were by this time watching the progress of events from thegravel, in company with the remainder of Flurry's household. "Thehorse is desthroyed! Wasn't that the quare start he took! And all inthe world I done was to slap a bucket of wather at Michael out thewindy, and 'twas himself got it in place of Michael!"
"Ye'll never ate another bit, Bridgie Dunnigan," replied the cook, withthe exulting pessimism of her kind. "The Master'll have your life!"
Both speakers shouted at the top of their voices, probably because inspirit they still followed afar the flight of the cob.
Leigh Kelway looked serious as we walked on down the drive. I almostdared to hope that a note on the degrading oppression of Irishretainers was shaping itself. Before we reached the bend of the drivethe rescue party was returning with the fugitive, all, with theexception of the kennel terrier, looking extremely gloomy. The cob hadbeen confronted by a wooden gate, which he had unhesitatingly taken inhis stride, landing on his head on the farther side with the gate andthe cart on top of him, and had arisen with a lame foreleg, a cut onhis nose, and several other minor wounds.
"You'd think the brute had been fighting the cats, with all thescratches and scrapes he has on him!" said Flurry, casting a vengefuleye at Michael, "and one shaft's broken and so is the dashboard. Ihaven't another horse in the place; they're all out at grass, and sothere's an end of the races!"
We all three stood blankly on the hall-door steps and watched the wreckof the trap being trundled up the avenue.
"I'm very sorry you're done out of your sport," said Flurry to LeighKelway, in tones of deplorable sincerity; "perhaps, as there's nothingelse to do, you'd like to see the hounds----?"
I felt for Flurry, but of the two I felt more for Leigh Kelway as heaccepted this alleviation. He disliked dogs, and held the newest viewson sanitation, and I knew what Flurry's kennels could smell like. Iwas lighting a precautionary cigarette, when we caught sight of an oldman riding up the drive. Flurry stopped short.
"Hold on a minute," he said; "here's an old chap that often brings mehorses for the kennels; I must s
ee what he wants."
The man dismounted and approached Mr. Knox, hat in hand, towing afterhim a gaunt and ancient black mare with a big knee.
"Well, Barrett," began Flurry, surveying the mare with his hands in hispockets, "I'm not giving the hounds meat this month, or only verylittle."
"Ah, Master Flurry," answered Barrett, "it's you that's pleasant! Isit give the like o' this one for the dogs to ate! She's a vallyblestrong young mare, no more than shixteen years of age, and ye'd soonerbe lookin' at her goin' under a side-car than eatin' your dinner."
"There isn't as much meat on her as 'd fatten a jackdaw," said Flurry,clinking the silver in his pockets as he searched for a matchbox."What are you asking for her?"
The old man drew cautiously up to him.
"Master Flurry," he said solemnly, "I'll sell her to your honour forfive pounds, and she'll be worth ten after you give her a month'sgrass."
Flurry lit his cigarette; then he said imperturbably, "I'll give youseven shillings for her."
Old Barrett put on his hat in silence, and in silence buttoned his coatand took hold of the stirrup leather. Flurry remained immovable."Master Flurry," said old Barrett suddenly, with tears in his voice,"you must make it eight, sir!"
"Michael!" called out Flurry with apparent irrelevance, "run up to yourfather's and ask him would he lend me a loan of his side-car."
Half-an-hour later we were, improbable as it may seem, on our way toLisheen races. We were seated upon an outside-car of immemorial age,whose joints seemed to open and close again as it swung in and out ofthe ruts, whose tattered cushions stank of rats and mildew, whosewheels staggered and rocked like the legs of a drunken man. Betweenthe shafts jogged the latest addition to the kennel larder, theeight-shilling mare. Flurry sat on one side, and kept her going at arate of not less than four miles an hour; Leigh Kelway and I held on tothe other.
"She'll get us as far as Lynch's anyway," said Flurry, abandoning hisfirst contention that she could do the whole distance, as he pulled heron to her legs after her fifteenth stumble, "and he'll lend us somesort of a horse, if it was only a mule."
"Do you notice that these cushions are very damp?" said Leigh Kelway tome, in a hollow undertone.
"Small blame to them if they are!" replied Flurry. "I've no doubt butthey were out under the rain all day yesterday at Mrs. Hurly's funeral."
Leigh Kelway made no reply, but he took his note-book out of his pocketand sat on it.
We arrived at Lynch's at a little past three, and were there confrontedby the next disappointment of this disastrous day. The door of Lynch'sfarmhouse was locked, and nothing replied to our knocking except apuppy, who barked hysterically from within.
"All gone to the races," said Flurry philosophically, picking his wayround the manure heap. "No matter, here's the filly in the shed here.I know he's had her under a car."
An agitating ten minutes ensued, during which Leigh Kelway and I gotthe eight-shilling mare out of the shafts and the harness, and Flurry,with our inefficient help, crammed the young mare into them. As Flurryhad stated that she had been driven before, I was bound to believe him,but the difficulty of getting the bit into her mouth was remarkable,and so also was the crab-like manner in which she sidled out of theyard, with Flurry and myself at her head, and Leigh Kelway hanging onto the back of the car to keep it from jamming in the gateway.
"Sit up on the car now," said Flurry when we got out on to the road;"I'll lead her on a bit. She's been ploughed anyway; one side of hermouth's as tough as a gad!"
Leigh Kelway threw away the wisp of grass with which he had beencleaning his hands, and mopped his intellectual forehead; he was verysilent. We both mounted the car, and Flurry, with the reins in hishand, walked beside the filly, who, with her tail clasped in, movedonward in a succession of short jerks.
"Oh, she's all right!" said Flurry, beginning to run, and dragging thefilly into a trot; "once she gets started--" Here the filly spied apig in a neighbouring field, and despite the fact that she had probablyeaten out of the same trough with it, she gave a violent side spring,and broke into a gallop.
"Now we're off!" shouted Flurry, making a jump at the car andclambering on; "if the traces hold we'll do!"
The English language is powerless to suggest the view-halloo with whichMr. Knox ended his speech, or to do more than indicate the rigidanxiety of Leigh Kelway's face as he regained his balance after thepreliminary jerk, and clutched the back rail. It must be said forLynch's filly that she did not kick; she merely fled, like a dog with akettle tied to its tail, from the pursuing rattle and jingle behindher, with the shafts buffeting her dusty sides as the car swung to andfro. Whenever she showed any signs of slackening, Flurry loosedanother yell at her that renewed her panic, and thus we precariouslycovered another two or three miles of our journey.
Had it not been for a large stone lying on the road, and had the fillynot chosen to swerve so as to bring the wheel on top of it, I dare saywe might have got to the races; but by an unfortunate coincidence boththese things occurred, and when we recovered from the consequent shock,the tire of one of the wheels had come off, and was trundling withcumbrous gaiety into the ditch. Flurry stopped the filly and began tolaugh; Leigh Kelway said something startlingly unparliamentary underhis breath.
"Well, it might be worse," Flurry said consolingly as he lifted thetire on to the car; "we're not half a mile from a forge."
We walked that half-mile in funereal procession behind the car; theglory had departed from the weather, and an ugly wall of cloud wasrising up out of the west to meet the sun; the hills had darkened andlost colour, and the white bog cotton shivered in a cold wind thatsmelt of rain.
By a miracle the smith was not at the races, owing, as he explained, tohis having "the toothaches," the two facts combined producing in him amorosity only equalled by that of Leigh Kelway. The smith's solecomment on the situation was to unharness the filly, and drag her intothe forge, where he tied her up. He then proceeded to whistleviciously on his fingers in the direction of a cottage, and to command,in tones of thunder, some unseen creature to bring over a couple ofbaskets of turf. The turf arrived in process of time, on a woman'sback, and was arranged in a circle in a yard at the back of the forge.The tire was bedded in it, and the turf was with difficulty kindled atdifferent points.
"Ye'll not get to the races this day," said the smith, yielding to asardonic satisfaction; "the turf's wet, and I haven't one to do ahand's turn for me." He laid the wheel on the ground and lit his pipe.
Leigh Kelway looked pallidly about him over the spacious emptylandscape of brown mountain slopes patched with golden furze and seamedwith grey walls; I wondered if he were as hungry as I. We sat onstones opposite the smouldering ring of turf and smoked, and Flurrybeguiled the smith into grim and calumnious confidences about everyhorse in the country. After about an hour, during which the turf wentout three times, and the weather became more and more threatening, agirl with a red petticoat over her head appeared at the gate of theyard, and said to the smith:
"The horse is gone away from ye."
"Where?" exclaimed Flurry, springing to his feet.
"I met him walking wesht the road there below, and when I thought toturn him he commenced to gallop."
"Pulled her head out of the headstall," said Flurry, after a rapidsurvey of the forge. "She's near home by now."
It was at this moment that the rain began; the situation could scarcelyhave been better stage-managed. After reviewing the position, Flurryand I decided that the only thing to do was to walk to a public-house acouple of miles farther on, feed there if possible, hire a car, and gohome.
It was an uphill walk, with mild generous raindrops striking thickerand thicker on our faces; no one talked, and the grey clouds crowded upfrom behind the hills like billows of steam. Leigh Kelway bore it allwith egregious resignation. I cannot pretend that I was at heartsympathetic, but by virtue of being his host I felt responsible for thebreakdown, for his light suit, for eve
rything, and divined hissentiment of horror at the first sight of the public-house.
It was a long, low cottage, with a line of dripping elm-treesovershadowing it; empty cars and carts round its door, and a babel fromwithin made it evident that the race-goers were pursuing a gradualhomeward route. The shop was crammed with steaming countrymen, whoseloud brawling voices, all talking together, roused my English friend tohis first remark since we had left the forge.
"Surely, Yeates, we are not going into that place?" he said severely;"those men are all drunk."
"Ah, nothing to signify!" said Flurry, plunging in and driving his waythrough the throng like a plough. "Here, Mary Kate!" he called to thegirl behind the counter, "tell your mother we want some tea and breadand butter in the room inside."
The smell of bad tobacco and spilt porter was choking; we worked ourway through it after him towards the end of the shop, intersecting atevery hand discussions about the races.
"Tom was very nice. He spared his horse all along, and then he putinto him--" "Well, at Goggin's corner the third horse was before thesecond, but he was goin' wake in himself." "I tell ye the mare had thehind leg fasht in the fore." "Clancy was dipping in the saddle.""'Twas a dam nice race whatever----"
We gained the inner room at last, a cheerless apartment, adorned withsacred pictures, a sewing-machine, and an array of supplementarytumblers and wineglasses; but, at all events, we had it so far toourselves. At intervals during the next half-hour Mary Kate burst inwith cups and plates, cast them on the table and disappeared, but offood there was no sign. After a further period of starvation and oflistening to the noise in the shop, Flurry made a sortie, and, afterlengthy and unknown adventures, reappeared carrying a huge brownteapot, and driving before him Mary Kate with the remainder of therepast. The bread tasted of mice, the butter of turf-smoke, the tea ofbrown paper, but we had got past the critical stage. I had enteredupon my third round of bread and butter when the door was flung open,and my valued acquaintance, Slipper, slightly advanced in liquor,presented himself to our gaze. His bandy legs sprawledconsequentially, his nose was redder than a coal of fire, his prominenteyes rolled crookedly upon us, and his left hand swept behind him theattempt of Mary Kate to frustrate his entrance.
"Good-evening to my vinerable friend, Mr. Flurry Knox!" he began, inthe voice of a town crier, "and to the Honourable Major Yeates, and theEnglish gintleman!"
This impressive opening immediately attracted an audience from theshop, and the doorway filled with grinning faces as Slipper advancedfarther into the room.
"Why weren't ye at the races, Mr. Flurry?" he went on, his roving eyetaking a grip of us all at the same time; "sure the Miss Bennetts andall the ladies was asking where were ye."
"It'd take some time to tell them that," said Flurry, with his mouthfull; "but what about the races, Slipper? Had you good sport?"
"Sport is it? Divil so pleasant an afternoon ever you seen," repliedSlipper. He leaned against a side table, and all the glasses on itjingled. "Does your honour know O'Driscoll?" he went on irrelevantly."Sure you do. He was in your honour's stable. It's what we were allsayin'; it was a great pity your honour was not there, for the likin'you had to Driscoll."
"That's thrue," said a voice at the door.
"There wasn't one in the Barony but was gethered in it, through andfro," continued Slipper, with a quelling glance at the interrupter;"and there was tints for sellin' porther, and whisky as pliable as newmilk, and boys gain' round the tints outside, feeling for heads withthe big ends of their blackthorns, and all kinds of recreations, andthe Sons of Liberty's piffler and dhrum band from Skebawn; thoughfaith! there was more of thim runnin' to look at the races than whatwas playin' in it; not to mintion different occasions that thebandmasther was atin' his lunch within in the whisky tint."
"But what about Driscoll?" said Flurry.
"Sure it's about him I'm tellin' ye," replied Slipper, with thepractised orator's watchful eye on his growing audience. "'Twas withinin the same whisky tint meself was, with the bandmasther and a few ofthe lads, an' we buyin' a ha'porth o' crackers, when I seen me braveDriscoll landin' into the tint, and a pair o' thim long boots on him;him that hadn't a shoe nor a stocking to his foot when your honour hadhim picking grass out o' the stones behind in your yard. 'Well,' saysI to meself, 'we'll knock some spoort out of Driscoll!'
"'Come here to me, acushla!' says I to him; 'I suppose it's some waywake in the legs y'are,' says I, 'an' the docthor put them on ye theway the people wouldn't thrample ye!'
"'May the divil choke ye!' says he, pleasant enough, but I knew by theblush he had he was vexed.
"'Then I suppose 'tis a left-tenant colonel y'are,' says I; 'yer mothermust be proud out o' ye!' says I, 'an' maybe ye'll lend her a loan o'thim waders when she's rinsin' yer bauneen in the river!' says I.
"'There'll be work out o' this!' says he, lookin' at me both sour andbitther.
"'Well indeed, I was thinkin' you were blue moulded for want of abatin',' says I. He was for fightin' us then, but afther we had himpacificated with about a quarther of a naggin o' sperrits, he told ushe was goin' ridin' in a race.
"'An' what'll ye ride?' says I.
"'Owld Bocock's mare,' says he.
"'Knipes!' says I, sayin' a great curse; 'is it that little staggeenfrom the mountains; sure she's somethin' about the one age withmeself,' says I. 'Many's the time Jamesy Geoghegan and meself used tobe dhrivin' her to Macroom with pigs an' all soorts,' says I; 'an' isit leppin' stone walls ye want her to go now?'
"'Faith, there's walls and every vari'ty of obstackle in it,' says he.
"'It'll be the best o' your play, so,' says I, 'to leg it away home outo' this.'
"'An' who'll ride her, so?' says he.
"'Let the divil ride her,' says I."
Leigh Kelway, who had been leaning back seemingly half asleep, obeyedthe hypnotism of Slipper's gaze, and opened his eyes.
"That was now all the conversation that passed between himself andmeself," resumed Slipper, "and there was no great delay afther thattill they said there was a race startin' and the dickens a one at allwas goin' to ride only two, Driscoll, and one Clancy. With that then Iseen Mr. Kinahane, the Petty Sessions clerk, goin' round clearin' thecoorse, an' I gethered a few o' the neighbours, an' we walked thefields hither and over till we seen the most of th' obstackles.
"'Stand aisy now by the plantation,' says I; 'if they get to come asfar as this, believe me ye'll see spoort,' says I, 'an' 'twill be aconvanient spot to encourage the mare if she's anyway wake in herself,'says I, cuttin' somethin' about five foot of an ash sapling out o' theplantation.
"'That's yer sort!' says owld Bocock, that was thravellin' theracecoorse, peggin' a bit o' paper down with a thorn in front of everylep, the way Driscoll 'd know the handiest place to face her at it.
"Well, I hadn't barely thrimmed the ash plant----"
"Have you any jam, Mary Kate?" interrupted Flurry, whose meal had beenin no way interfered with by either the story or the highly-scentedcrowd who had come to listen to it.
"We have no jam, only thraycle, sir," replied the invisible Mary Kate.
"I hadn't the switch barely thrimmed," repeated Slipper firmly, "when Iheard the people screechin', an' I seen Driscoll an' Clancy comin' on,leppin' all before them, an' owld Bocock's mare bellusin' an'powdherin' along, an' bedad! whatever obstackle wouldn't throw _her_down, faith, she'd throw _it_ down, an' there's the thraffic they hadin it.
"'I declare to me sowl,' says I, 'if they continue on this way there'sa great chance some one o' thim 'll win," says I.
"'Ye lie!' says the bandmasther, bein' a thrifle fulsome after hisluncheon.
"'I do not,' says I, 'in regard of seein' how soople them two boys is.Ye might observe,' says I, 'that if they have no convanient way to siton the saddle, they'll ride the neck o' the horse till such time asthey gets an occasion to lave it,' says I.
"'Arrah, shut yer mouth!' says the bandmasther; 'they're puckin' outthis way now,
an' may the divil admire me!' says he, 'but Clancy hasthe other bet out, and the divil such leatherin' and beltin' of owldBocock's mare ever you seen as what's in it!' says he.
"Well, when I seen them comin' to me, and Driscoll about the length ofthe plantation behind Clancy, I let a couple of bawls.
"'Skelp her, ye big brute!' says I. 'What good's in ye that ye aren'table to skelp her?'"
The yell and the histrionic flourish of his stick with which Slipperdelivered this incident brought down the house. Leigh Kelway wassufficiently moved to ask me in an undertone if "skelp" was a localterm.
"Well, Mr. Flurry, and gintlemen," recommenced Slipper, "I declare toye when owld Bocock's mare heard thim roars she sthretched out her necklike a gandher, and when she passed me out she give a couple of grunts,and looked at me as ugly as a Christian.
"'Hah!' says I, givin' her a couple o' dhraws o' th' ash plant acrossthe butt o' the tail, the way I wouldn't blind her; 'I'll make yegrunt!' says I, 'I'll nourish ye!'
"I knew well she was very frightful of th' ash plant since the winterTommeen Sullivan had her under a sidecar. But now, in place of havin'any obligations to me, ye'd be surprised if ye heard the blaspheemiousexpressions of that young boy that was ridin' her; and whether it wasover-anxious he was, turnin' around the way I'd hear him cursin', orwhether it was some slither or slide came to owld Bocock's mare, Idunno, but she was bet up agin the last obstackle but two, and beforeye could say 'Schnipes,' she was standin' on her two ears beyond in th'other field! I declare to ye, on the vartue of me oath, she stood thatway till she reconnoithered what side would Driscoll fall, an' sheturned about then and rolled on him as cosy as if he was meadow grass!"
Slipper stopped short; the people in the doorway groanedappreciatively; Mary Kate murmured "The Lord save us!"
"The blood was dhruv out through his nose and ears," continued Slipper,with a voice that indicated the cream of the narration, "and you'd hearhis bones crackin' on the ground! You'd have pitied the poor boy."
"Good heavens!" said Leigh Kelway, sitting up very straight in hischair.
"Was he hurt, Slipper?" asked Flurry casually.
"Hurt is it?" echoed Slipper in high scorn; "killed on the spot!" Hepaused to relish the effect of the _denouement_ on Leigh Kelway. "Oh,divil so pleasant an afthernoon ever you seen; and indeed, Mr. Flurry,it's what we were all sayin', it was a great pity your honour was notthere for the likin' you had for Driscoll."
As he spoke the last word there was an outburst of singing and cheeringfrom a carload of people who had just pulled up at the door. Flurrylistened, leaned back in his chair, and began to laugh.
"It scarcely strikes one as a comic incident," said Leigh Kelway, verycoldly to me; "in fact, it seems to me that the police ought----"
"Show me Slipper!" bawled a voice in the shop; "show me that dirtylittle undherlooper till I have his blood! Hadn't I the race won onlyfor he souring the mare on me! What's that you say? I tell ye he did!He left seven slaps on her with the handle of a hay-rake----"
There was in the room in which we were sitting a second door, leadingto the back yard, a door consecrated to the unobtrusive visits ofso-called "Sunday travellers." Through it Slipper faded away like adream, and, simultaneously, a tall young man, with a face like ared-hot potato tied up in a bandage, squeezed his way from the shopinto the room.
"Well, Driscoll," said Flurry, "since it wasn't the teeth of the rakehe left on the mare, you needn't be talking!"
Leigh Kelway looked from one to the other with a wilder expression inhis eye than I had thought it capable of. I read in it a resolve toabandon Ireland to her fate.
At eight o'clock we were still waiting for the car that we had beenassured should be ours directly it returned from the races. Athalf-past eight we had adopted the only possible course that remained,and had accepted the offers of lifts on the laden cars that werereturning to Skebawn, and I presently was gratified by the spectacle ofmy friend Leigh Kelway wedged between a roulette table and itsproprietor on one side of a car, with Driscoll and Slipper,mysteriously reconciled and excessively drunk, seated, locked in eachother's arms, on the other. Flurry and I, somewhat similarly placed,followed on two other cars. I was scarcely surprised when I wasinformed that the melancholy white animal in the shafts of the leadingcar was Owld Bocock's much-enduring steeplechaser.
The night was very dark and stormy, and it is almost superfluous to saythat no one carried lamps; the rain poured upon us, and through windand wet Owld Bocock's mare set the pace at a rate that showed she knewfrom bitter experience what was expected from her by gentlemen who hadspent the evening in a public-house; behind her the other two tiredhorses followed closely, incited to emulation by shouting, singing, anda liberal allowance of whip. We were a good ten miles from Skebawn,and never had the road seemed so long. For mile after mile thehalf-seen low walls slid past us, with occasional plunges into cavernsof darkness under trees. Sometimes from a wayside cabin a dog woulddash out to bark at us as we rattled by; sometimes our cavalcade swungaside to pass, with yells and counter-yells, crawling carts filled withother belated race-goers.
I was nearly wet through, even though I received considerable shelterfrom a Skebawn publican, who slept heavily and irrepressibly on myshoulder. Driscoll, on the leading car, had struck up an approximationto the "Wearing of the Green," when a wavering star appeared on theroad ahead of us. It grew momently larger; it came towards us apace.Flurry, on the car behind me, shouted suddenly--
"That's the mail car, with one of the lamps out! Tell those fellowsahead to look out!"
But the warning fell on deaf ears.
"When laws can change the blades of grass From growing as they grow----"
howled five discordant voices, oblivious of the towering proximity ofthe star.
A Bianconi mail car is nearly three times the size of an ordinaryoutside car, and when on a dark night it advances, Cyclops-like, withbut one eye, it is difficult for even a sober driver to calculate itsbulk. Above the sounds of melody there arose the thunder of heavywheels, the splashing trample of three big horses, then a crash and aturmoil of shouts. Our cars pulled up just in time, and I tore myselffrom the embrace of my publican to go to Leigh Kelway's assistance.
The wing of the Bianconi had caught the wing of the smaller car,flinging Owld Bocock's mare on her side and throwing her freightheadlong on top of her, the heap being surmounted by the roulettetable. The driver of the mail car unshipped his solitary lamp andturned it on the disaster. I saw that Flurry had already got hold ofLeigh Kelway by the heels, and was dragging him from under the others.He struggled up hatless, muddy, and gasping, with Driscoll hanging onby his neck, still singing the "Wearing of the Green."
A voice from the mail car said incredulously, "_Leigh Kelway!_" Aspectacled face glared down upon him from under the dripping spikes ofan umbrella.
It was the Right Honourable the Earl of Waterbury, Leigh Kelway'schief, returning from his fishing excursion.
Meanwhile Slipper, in the ditch, did not cease to announce that "Divilso pleasant an afthernoon ever ye seen as what was in it!"
Some Experiences of an Irish R.M. Page 5
