"Jerry! Jerry! Jerry O'Flynn!" wailed the voice. "Why don't you open the dure?"
But Jerry never moved; he sat with stiffened hair and wild, straining eyes fixed on the black windowpanes.
"Jerry! Jerry!" demanded the voice, now harsh and commanding. "I ask you once more, will you open?"
Slowly, like one asleep, Jerry arose and step by step, retreated backward till his groping hands touched the wall behind him. There with parted, dry lips, and trembling knees, he waited.
The clock had ticked five times—he timed it by his beating heart—when, without so much as a bolt being drawn, the door swung wide open, and from the blackness without, what should step boldly over the threshold but Char-les the pig. Not as he was wont to come, mind you, with friendly grunt and careless swagger, but silent, and stern, and masterful. He marched into the room, over to the fireplace, and sat himself upright in quiet dignity upon the stool that Jerry had just left. Jerry never moved a muscle, but stood frozen with surprise and growing resentment that Char-les, the pig, should give himself so many airs and make himself so free about the house.
The beast never deigned so much as a side look at his master but, wriggling himself into a comfortable position on the stool, he opened his mouth and, in a gruff patronizing way, began to speak. At the sound of the strange voice, all the boy's fears rushed back on him.
"Jerry O'Flynn," said the pig, "what are ye afeared of? Come over and sit on that stool ferninst me, an' don't stand there shiverin' and shaken' like a cowardly bosthoon!"
"I'm not afeared," quavered Jerry as he sidled over and seated himself gingerly on the very edge of the stool. "But may I ax yez a fair, civil question?" says he.
"You may not," snapped Char-les. "You're here now to do as you're bid, and not to be axin' questions."
At this unheard-of impudence, Jerry's anger got the better of his fright. "As I'm bid!" he spluttered, thumping his knee. "What do you mane? Am n't I the masther?"
"Masther! Ho, ho! Masther! Be-dad, will ye listen to that!" roared the pig. "Why you dundherheaded omadhaun, who has been currycombing me, an' brushing me down all these months, an' who has been working for me early and late in the fields, to get butthermilk an' petaties for me brakwusts, I'd like to know! Masther indeed! Let me hear no more of that," grunted the pig, crossing his legs as he spoke. Jerry scratched his head in furious bewilderment.
"Tundher an' turf!" he gasped. "Thrue for ye, Char-les! I never thought of it that way. But thin, me lad, the rayson ye got such grand care was because I intinded to—" He stopped short, frightened out of his seven senses by a quiet look in the pig's eye.
"Intended to what?" asked Char-les calmly.
"Nawthin'," mumbled Jerry.
"Umph!" the pig grunted. "Fill the poipe and hand it over to me, and pay attention, for I've something to tell you. You know by this time, I suppose, that it's no ord'nary baste you have ferninst ye; an' I want ye to undherstand," says he, pointing to his pipe, "that tomorrow mornin', whin ye're takin' me to market, you'll be thravelin' in much betther company than I'll be in."
"Well, who and what are ye at all, at all?" demanded Jerry.
The pig leaned over and got a coal for his pipe. "Listen, and I'll expatiate," he puffed. "You must know that I am Killbohgan, the ould ancient Milesian maygician who, in an unlucky moment, had the comeither put on him by Killboggan, an oulder an' a trifle ancienther enchanter; and who, to escape from the parsecutions of Killboggan, changed himself into a hare."
"Oh, by the powers!" cried Jerry, slapping his knee with his hand. "The first hard worruk ye'll do in the mornin' will be to go out an' change me flock of ducks intil a herd of cows, so it will."
"Oh, you poor man," sighed the magician. "There was a time when such a thrick 'us be only sport and game for me. But wirrasthrue, that was hundherds of years ago. I once changed a hill of red ants into a dhrove of wild ulephants to plaze one of me sick childher. But Killboggan has dhrawn all the power from me now, an' I used the last spell I had that midnight whin I changed meself into a wee white bonive before your own horse-pitiful dure."
The pig scratched his ear reflectively with the stem of his pipe, and smiled, and shook his head sadly when Jerry remarked: "I aways knew there was something shuperior in your charackther, Char-les."
"Be that as it may be," continued Char-les, "as I was sayin': afther I had changed meself intil a hare, what did the bliggard Killboggan do but turn himself intil a hound, and for years and years, he hunted me from one end of Ireland ground to the other. One day, as we were goin' lickety splicket up the Giant's Causeway, the villain nearly had me by the hind leg, and findin' meself in such a duspurate amplush, I quick turned meself intil a herring an' dhropped intil the say.
"Well, anyway, it wasn't a minute till Killboggan had metamurphied himself intil a whale, and, by the mortial man, came sploshing in afther me. And so, for hundherds of years, we'd been rummagin' and rampagin' from one ind of the everlastin' salt says to the other, till on Chewsday last April, Ned Driscoll, who was out fishing for herrings, caught me in his net. An' as he was passin' your door that same night, I slipped out of his basket an' turned meself into a purty white bonive in the road beyant."
"Well, well, d'ye mind that," exclaimed Jerry. "Wondhers'll never sayse. And you can't gainsay, Char-les, but what you've got the best of good thratement."
"It's the truth you're spakin'," nodded the pig. "And now to prove me gratitude, I'll show ye a way to fill your pockets with goold. Whenever you need a little money, just take me to the nearest fair and sell me for the best price ye can get. Then go your ways, and never fear, but I'll be back to ye safe an' sound by cockcrow."
In his excitement over this prospect, Jerry lost sight entirely of the sheer dishonesty of the plan. "Oh, by the powers," he exalted, "the goose that laid the goolden egg is a mere flaybite by comparison to you!"
"There's only one thing ye must be careful of," said the magician, raising his pipe warningly to his nose, "and that one thing is this: you are on no account to sell me to a dark, long-faced man with a hump on his back, for that'll be the tarnation schaymer of the worruld, Killboggan. But see, the day is breaking! Tie the rope to me leg, and off to Clonmel with us."
Jerry took the sociable creature at his word, and down the road they put. But the journey was so delayed by wonderful tales of goints and of magicians and by some fine old ballads that Char-les sang as they sat under a hedge to rest, that it was the middle of the forenoon before they found themselves in the busy marketplace of the fair. At once, Jerry was hailed on all sides, and it wasn't long till he was offered two pounds for his fine pig. Almost immediately aftherwards, Red Shaun, the drover, raised the bid to two pounds ten.
"No," cried Jerry. "I'll not take a penny less than three pound. And it's ashamed I am to part with him for that. Here you, Wullum!" he called to his first cousin, William Hagen, who stood by. "There's a letther for me in the post office beyant. Do you hold Char-les here till I go for it."
He slipped the rope into William's hand and was off like a shot. It wasn't two minutes till he was back again with the letther in his pocket. There stood William, a glad smile on his round, red face, and four gold sovereigns shining in his open palm. But the pig was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Char-les?" shouted Jerry, a cold fear gripping his heart.
"Char-les is gone," chuckled William, "but here's the price of him; and a pound more than you axed for the lazy baste."
"Who bought him?" demanded Jerry anxiously. "Tell me quick, who bought him?"
"Sorra, do I know who the long-faced, black, ould targer was? But he seemed mighty glad to get the pig at four pounds and was in a great hurry to be away with himself."
Jerry tried to speak, but his voice at first failed him. "Did the schaymer have a hump on his back, I dunno?" he managed at last to gasp.
"No less," answered William, "a hump like a camel's. But what's come over ye, man? You're as white as a ghost."
As Jerry walked slowly toward the fireplace, the pig addressed him, and the sad tremble in his voice went straight to his master's heart.
"I'm dead now; now I'm dead, Jerry," wailed the pig. "I wrastled with that scoundhrel Killboggan till tin minutes ago, and his spells and charrums have me melted away to a lookingglass image of meself. Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my! By accident, I got him down at last and managed to escape and fly to you. But he's comin'. He'll be here in a minute, and then goodbye forever to the raynowned Killbohgan. I can do no more. I'll vanish entirely."
"Och, what a murderin' pity," mourned Jerry, wringing his hands. "Is there no help for you?"
"There's only one poor chanst in all the worruld," moaned Char-les, "but I don't think you'd be ayquil to the task. If you could manage to stuff a handful of salt into Killboggan's mouth, that'd put an ind to his powers and his parsecutions. I'd soon grow fat ag'in. But sure, what's the use of talkin'—Oh, by this and that, here he is!"
The pig made a jump and a mad scramble for the other room and dived under the bed, and Jerry barely had time to snatch a fistful of salt from a crock on the dresser shelf, when the kitchen door flew open, and in strode a tall, humpbacked man with the longest, darkest face Jerry had ever seen.
"You have that villain Killbohgan here somewhere, an' you'd betther let me have him at once," croaked the dark man in a deep, harsh voice. He stood wide on his legs in the middle of the floor. "Ha, there he is, skulkin' under the bed. Wait till I have him out and finish him here ferninst ye."
With these words, the magician made a bolt for the other room, but as he did, Jerry, with a courage which has since become the settled boast of all his descendants, gave a quick spring and landed fair and square on the ugly intruder's back. And then began a struggle which, for noise and destruction, has never been equaled, before or since, in any respectable man's kitchen. With his left arm clasped tight about the long, bony neck, Jerry strove with his right hand to thrust the fistful of salt into the villian's mouth.
Round and round spun the magician, as fast as any top, striving desperately meanwhile to avoid the handful of salt which Jerry just as desperately was endeavoring to make him swallow. From one end of the kitchen to the other they whirled, Jerry's legs flying out behind him like a couple of flails and sweeping everything in their way. Down went the table, up in the air flew the two stools, crash went the poor old clock, and, with one wild sweep, the two dignified brass candlesticks flew madly off the mantel. And then, saddest of all to relate, swish, crack! went Jerry's two legs against the churn-dasher, and the five gallons of fresh, sweet buttermilk spread like a white sheet over the floor.
"Oh, ye murdherin' thafe of the worruld! Oh, me two misfortunate legs!" roared Jerry. He gave the magician such a poke in the back with his knee as to drive for an instant every whiff of breath out of the rascal's body.
"Huroo! Huroo!" shouted Killbohgan's smothered voice from under the bed.
At that, the frantic enchanter changed his tactics. He now stood in the middle of the floor, bending his body up and down with the greatest rapidity, so that Jerry fluttered back and forth like a shirt on a clothesline in windy weather.
The brave man, however, never weakened his hold, and Killboggan soon found out that this plan was useless, too. So what does the rapscallion of an enchanter do but begin backing rapidly toward the fireplace.
"Oh, murdher in Irish, this is where the spalpeen's got me," groaned poor Jerry, twisting a frightened eye over his shoulder at the turf fire.
"Keep a firm grip on him, whatever happens," encouraged the invisible Killbohgan. "Ye're doin' foine."
Whether Killboggan intended to seat the poor lad on the live coals will never be known. At any rate, if such was his uncharitable intention, the maddened wizard miscalculated the direction, and instead of finding the fireplace, he succeeded only in banging the heroic Jerry against the wall with a terrible thump.
Hard as it was on the poor lad's bones, that same bump proved to be Jerry's salvation; for the rattling jar of it loosened the big, heavy picture of Dan'l O'Connell which hung enshrined on the whitewashed wall above them, and, as though of its own volition, down came Dan'l crash on Killboggan's head. The glass was smashed into smithereens, and the heavy frame hung itself round the neck of the bewildered magician like an ox yoke.
And that wasn't the best of it, either, for at this same moment, Killboggan's two feet slipped in the buttermilk, and down he went on his back to the floor like a load of turf. The grunt the fallen wizard let out of him could have been heard in the seven corners of the parish. There was an exultant "Hooroo!" from under the bed, and the next instant, Jerry, gasping and spluttering, was seated on the black lad's chest, striving still with might and main to pry open the long jaws and to crush the handful of salt through the scraggly yellow teeth.
Slowly the great jaws opened, and our hayro was making haste to poke in the saving salt, when suddenly a hand caught him from behind, and a familiar voice spoke in his ear.
"Get up out of that. I'm ashamed of ye. What are ye doin' to that stool?" It was his wife, Katie, who spoke.
But Jerry, breathing hard, still clung desperately to Killboggan, until looking more closely, what was his surprise and consternation to find that the wizard had some way changed himself into one of their own three-legged stools!
Jerry rose slowly to his stiffened knees and looked about him in great bewilderment, as well he might; for, wonder of wonders, there was no sign whatever in the room of the late desperate struggle. From his old place on the wall, Dan'l O'Connell, unharmed, smiled down lofty and serene upon the neatly set kitchen, while upright and solemn, the dark churn stood in its own quiet corner by the dresser. Indeed, there was not an article of furniture out of its place, and Jerry, as he knelt, looked round in vain for the sign of a single drop of buttermilk on the floor.
"Where's Killboggan?" he gasped, as he struggled to his feet.
"Kill who?" laughed Katie in stitches. "I've seen no Killboggan or Killhoggan, or Kill anybody else, aither. But you and that bliggard Char-les should be halfway to Clonmel by this time."
"Char-les, Char-les," Jerry repeated mournfully, wagging his head. "Sure, Char-les is gone, Katie, an' we'll never see the poor hayro ag'in."
"Won't we, then," laughed Katie. "Quit dhramin', avourneen, an' see who's lookin' in the door at ye."
Jerry looked as he was bidden, and there, with his head poked over the threshold, to his master's infinite amazement, stood Char-les, fat and comfortable-looking as ever, with a roguish smile in his eye which said plain as spoken words: "The top o' the mornin' to ye." It was already bright daylight.
"Take ye're bite of breakwus, darlin'," coaxed Katie, "an' the two of yez be off, but mind ye, don't sell the pig for a penny less than three pound."
"Sell him! Katie—Sell him!—I wouldn't part with Char-les for any money." At that, he up and told her all that had happened during the wonderful night, and he wound up by saying: "It may have been a dhrame, an' thin again, it may have been a wision, but dhrame or wision, I'll take no chances in having the vartuous Killbohgan murdhered."
"At laste," insisted Katie, "Mrs. Clancey an' the letther is no shupernatural wision, so take the road in your hands an'
bring us back worrud of it."
And so, indeed, Jerry did, and toward evening, back he came, only the top of his hat visible over the stack of bundles he carried. With dancing feet and clapping hands, the children opened wide the door, and Jerry marched proudly in and began to unload. A bonnet box with a bonnet in it that dazzled Katie's eyes; ten yards of calico; eight yards of beautiful red flannel; two pounds of good black tea; three pairs of shoes for the children. "God bless thim," and a great package of tobacco and a fine new pipe for himself.
"Me Uncle Dan in Amerikay isn't dead afther all, Katie," he exulted, "and to prove it, he put tin pounds in the letther; an' afther buyin' all ye tould me to and lashins more, I paid the rint, thanks be, and I have still a matther of four pounds tin tucked safe an' deep in the bottom of me breeches pocket."
The Ashes of Old Wishes Page 13
