CHAPTER EIGHT.
A RACE FOR A LIFE.
My impulse, when I read that sad message from my dead mother, was torise from my bed and saddle the horse and return, cost what it might, toKilgorman. Had I done so I might perchance have saved myself months,even years, of trouble.
But in a weak moment I let my fatigue and my irresolution and my fear ofthe ghost get the better of me, and decided to put off till to-morrowwhat I should have done to-day. If in after years my worst enemy had toconfess that what I did I did quickly, it was due to the lesson whichthis one act of procrastination taught me.
Putting everything together, the meaning of the letter seemed prettyclear. My mother, distraught by the sudden death of her master andmistress, and believing herself to be dying too, had desired to ease hermind of a secret (I knew not what) which lay upon it; but being in dreadof it falling into wrong hands, had written it and hidden it in someplace, leaving this slender clue to the chance discoverer of her littlebook of ballads.
How was it possible to believe otherwise than that Providence had, afterfourteen years, placed that clue in the hands of her son, and therebyimposed upon me a duty from which, whatever it was, I should have beenundutiful, and a coward to boot, had I shrunk?
But, as I tell you, for one night I shrunk from it, resolving that onthe morrow I would obey the summons. But many to-morrows were to comeand go before the promise could be fulfilled.
His honour returned at dead of night from Derry, and when, as usual, Ipresented myself to wait at breakfast, I was surprised to find himseated there with his wife and daughter.
Miss Kit was in her wonted high spirits, and alarmed me by plunging atonce into the story of yesterday's adventure.
"Father," she said, "why is Kilgorman all barred and bolted against itsfuture mistress? Here was I, yesterday, standing humbly like a beggaron the doorstep of our own house, and obliged to slink away disappointedafter all."
His honour looked up with an angry flush on his pale face.
"Kilgorman!" cried he; "what took you there? Don't you know no one isallowed within the grounds?"
"I didn't know till Barry told me. And even then I did not suppose theprohibition applied to me."
His honour rounded angrily on me.
"What does this mean, sirrah? How did you dare to take her to Kilgormanafter the charge I laid upon you?"
"Barry take me, indeed!" broke in Miss Kit, with a mighty toss of herhead. "Barry takes me nowhere. It was I took him, whether he would ornot; and a very poor adventure he made of it. You shall take meyourself next time, father."
"Understand," said his honour, looking very black, "that no one, noteven my daughter, is permitted to go where I forbid.--As for you, youprying fool," added he, turning on me, "you shall see whether I am to beobeyed or not."
I deemed it prudent to say nothing, and retired, pretty determined thatwere his honour Saint Patrick himself he should not keep me out ofKilgorman. But I had missed my chance.
After that day my position at Knockowen became more irksome than ever,for I was taken from my work in the stables, and a new boy appointed inmy place to tend the horses and accompany Miss Kit when she rode out.And I was kept all day within doors, at everybody's beck and call, fromcock-crow, when I had to light the fires, to midnight, when I had to seehis honour's clothes brushed and laid out in his dressing-room.
My only liberty, if liberty it might be called, was when the boat waswanted. There my seamanship made me necessary. But since no onethought of sailing towards the lough mouth, but only across or uptowards Rathmullan, there was no chance of my defying his honour'sregulations that way.
For a week or two even my mother's message was driven from my head byhatred of my rival, the new groom--a villainous-looking rascal, someyears my elder, who yet had not even the merit of being a good horsemanto commend him.
Rightly or wrongly, I suspected that part of his business was to keep awatch on me. And if anything could determine me to defiance that wasenough. As to Miss Kit, I humbly hoped she liked the change as littleas I; for since her liberty was cut off from one road, and her newlackey had neither looks nor conversation to commend him, her love ofriding gradually flagged, and presently Martin--that was the fellow'sname--had to lead out her riderless horse for exercise.
The trying thing to me was that Martin would not even do me thecompliment of recognising me as his enemy. It was not for lack ofinvitation, nor was it owing to cowardice. But he was a dogged, short-sighted villain, taken up with his own concerns, and not choosing totrouble his head with those of others.
But one day I had the luck to startle him out of his reserve. Miss Kitcame down to the yard that morning, and for the first time for more thana week ordered out her horse.
Martin, who was sitting lazily in the kitchen, rose somewhat sulkily andsaid,--
"It's not the day for a ride. Sure Juno's that saucy with want of workthere'll be no holding her in. Besides, the master--"
But the young lady cut him short.
"Get up, sir, at once, and do as you are bid. There's more than Juno issaucy with want of work. Be quick now."
He went off with a scowl, and presently returned, leading out Juno andthe horse on which he was to follow--a great-limbed animal called Paddy.
What he had said about my little lady's mare was very true. High-spirited she was at best of times, but a week's idleness and eating hadmade her fairly wicked; and as I looked out from the kitchen door towatch them start, I wished it was my business and not Martin's to seeher safe on her way.
"Hold her head till I mount," said Miss Kit, after trying for a minuteor two to coax the mare into peace. "She will be easy enough when I amup."
But though Martin held her head, the animal yet started and shied andcurvetted every time Miss Kit gathered the reins in her hand and liftedher foot to the stirrup.
So I came out to the yard and gave her my hand to mount by.
Martin scowled very black at this.
"Go along away out of that," said he, when my lady was fairly perched onthe saddle; "the mare's enough to fright her without you."
"Get you up on Paddy," said I, "and don't talk to me.--So, steady there,Juno lass.--Hold her gently, Miss Kit."
Martin, muttering to himself, let go the mare's head and walked over towhere Paddy stood.
Just then, as luck would have it, out came Con the dog with a joyousyap.
This sudden noise was too much for the courage of Juno, who, feeling herhead free and only a light weight on her back, gave a wild plunge, andnext moment was away at a gallop out of the yard gate and down theavenue.
It was no time for halting. The mare must be caught before she couldreach the cliffs, or to a certainty she and her rider were doomed.
Martin stood with his hand on Paddy's mane, gaping after the runaway.
With a sudden spring I dashed him aside and vaulted into the saddle, andbefore he could expostulate or guess what had happened I was away infull chase.
Even in the terror of the moment I could not help laughing to myself atthe thought of poor Martin tumbling across the stable-yard, and findinghimself out of the hunt. After that he would at least deign torecognise Barry Gallagher.
Though scarcely half-a-minute had elapsed, Juno and her precious burdenwere at the end of the long avenue before I was at the beginning of it.Paddy, amazed at all the excitement, lost some seconds in plungingbefore I could induce him to lay himself out for the pursuit. Then, todo him justice, he needed little coaxing from me. If only his wind wasas long as his stride, this hue and cry might prove a holiday freak. Ifnot--
It was a moment of keen suspense when at last I got clear of the avenueand looked round in search of the fugitive. There she was, her lightfigure thrown back as she strained at the reins, and her face turned tothe upland ahead. Just beyond Knockowen, on the south side, is a longstretch of smooth turf, lying along the cliff-tops for a mile or more,and then suddenly cut short by a deep chasm in the coast,
into which thewaters of the lough pour tumultuously even in fair weather, and in foul,rage and boil as if in a caldron. It was a favourite sport of Miss Kitto gallop along this tempting stretch of grass, and Juno knew the wayonly too well.
As I came into the open, I could see that, in spite of the rider'sefforts, the mare was making straight for the dangerous cliffs, and thatin a few short minutes, unless a miracle happened, or unless I couldreach the spot first, her mad career was likely to end in a way it mademe sick to contemplate.
I stood in my stirrups and gave a loud halloo, and could see Miss Kitturn her head for a moment and then settle down again to the task ofkeeping her seat and pulling frantically at the reins; while I, aimingdirect for the point of danger, put Paddy in a straight line acrosscountry.
It was a desperate race, that between the mad, high-mettled mare and thecanny, raw-boned hunter. Happily he had but a boy's light weight tocarry. For a moment or two I lost sight of the runaways. Then as Icleared a rise I saw them, a quarter of a mile away on my right, ourcourses closing on one another at every yard.
Presently, with a sickening sensation, I caught sight of the solitarybeacon-post which marks the edge of the chasm for the unwary traveller.On clear ground I could have been certain of arriving there in time tostop the mare, but, to my dismay, two tumble-down stone walls, of whichI had forgotten the existence, lay between me and the goal. The nearerof them was fairly high; the other, only twenty yards beyond, was lower,but more dangerous on account of the loose stones between the two.
I called on Paddy; and, oh, the suspense as he rose at the ugly wall!
Over! Paddy came down with a stagger, and lost a pace as he gatheredhimself again for the next. None but a born Irishman could have pickedhis way as he did among the scattered boulders, or chosen his starting-point for the lower yet longer leap.
I remember, as we rose at it, I saw Miss Kit quite close, very white,with her hat gone, and her stirrup swinging loose, but very resolutestill, gripping hard at the pommel with one hand as she tried to wave tome with the other.
Paddy performed his task nobly, and never broke stride as he settleddown for the few remaining yards of that great race.
We had won, but only just. I had barely time to rein up at a safedistance from the edge, and turn to meet the oncomers, when there theywere.
Juno, finding her way suddenly obstructed, flung up her head and swervedinland, and before she could gather herself I had leaned across andlifted her panting burden in my arm.
Juno might go now for me!
As for Paddy, no one knows how much at that critical moment I owed tohis steady help.
The little lady looked up with a half smile as I set her before me onthe saddle. Then her head fell back on my shoulder in a faint, and Ihad the sweetest and (for all we walked the whole way) the shortest ridehome I ever knew.
It was with a sore heart that presently I surrendered my burden to hermother's arms, and addressed myself to the task of recompensing my bravePaddy for that day's feat.
While I rubbed him down, up came Martin, and my spirits rose.
"Go along away out of that, you blundering spalpeen," said he, with acuff on the ear. "I'll learn you to meddle, so I will. Go and cleanthe pots, and let the horse alone."
"Clean the pots yourself," said I, pretty hot, "and leave the horse toone that can ride him."
He gaped at me in his stupid way.
"You'll swallow it in time," said I, having finished my rubbing down."Wait out there, like a jewel, till I put the beast away, and then youshall call me spalpeen again."
I think he was more astonished to be defied than he chose to confess.Anyway he waited for me.
"Now," said I, "Mister Martin, I'm waiting for you."
He made a lunge at me, which I dodged, and before he knew where he was Ihad him on the cheek-bone so suddenly that he slipped and tumbled on theground.
I was two years older than the day I had fought Tim, poor Tim, on thecliff at Fanad. And to-day I was so uplifted I could have fought anarmy.
So it was a disappointment when Martin stumbled to his feet and sheeredoff with a threat of vengeance.
What cared I? Paddy and I had won a race, and my little mistress wassafe.
Yet Martin, as will appear presently, was a man of his word.
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798 Page 9
