Hooch hoop hoora! cried he, as he set eyes upon the captive, at the same time tossing his hat high into the air. Thanks to the Howly Vargin[87], an Saint Pathrick[88] to boot, Masther Maurice, yez have cotched the spotty at last! Its a mare, be japers! Och! the purthy crayther! I dont wondher yez hiv been so bad about gettin howlt av her. Sowl! if yez had her in Ballinasloe Fair, yez might ask your own price, and get it too, widout givin sixpence av luckpenny. Oh! the purty crayther! Where will yez hiv her phut, masther? Into the corral, wid the others?
No, she might get kicked among them. We shall tie her in the shed. Castro must pass his night outside among the trees. If hes got any gallantry in him he wont mind that. Did you ever see anything so beautiful as she is, Phelim I mean in the way of horseflesh?
Niver, Masther Maurice; niver, in all me life! An Ive seen some nice bits av blood about Ballyballagh. Oh, the purty crayther! she looks as if a body cud ate her; and yit, in trath, she looks like she wud ate you. Yez havent given her the schoolin lesson, have yez?
No, Phelim: I dont want to break her just yet not till I have time, and can do it properly. It would never do to spoil such perfection as that. I shall tame her, after weve taken her to the Settlements.
Yez be goin there, masther Maurice? When?
To-morrow. We shall start by daybreak, so as to make only one day between here and the Fort.
Sowl! Im glad to hear it. Not on me own account, but yours, Masther Maurice. Maybe yez dont know that the whiskys on the idge of bein out? From the rattle av the jar, I dont think theres more than three naggins left. Them sutlers at the Fort arent honest. They chate ye in the mizyure; besides watherin the whisky, so that it wont bear a dhrap more out av the strame hare. Trath! a gallon av Innishowen wud last ayqual to three av this Amerikin rotgut, as the Yankees[89] themselves christen it.
Never mind about the whisky, Phelim I suppose theres enough to last us for this night, and fill our flasks for the journey of to-morrow. Look alive, old Ballyballagh! Let us stable the spotted mare; and then I shall have time to talk about a fresh supply of potheen, which I know you like better than anything else except yourself!
And you, Masther Maurice! retorted the Galwegian[90], with a comical twinkle of the eye, that caused his master to leap laughingly out of the saddle.
The spotted mare was soon stabled in the shed, Castro being temporarily attached to a tree; where Phelim proceeded to groom him after the most approved prairie fashion.
The mustanger threw himself on his horse-skin couch, wearied with the work of the day. The capture of the yegua pinta had cost him a long and arduous chase such as he had never ridden before in pursuit of a mustang.
There was a motive that had urged him on, unknown to Phelim unknown to Castro who carried him unknown to living creature, save himself.
Notwithstanding that he had spent several days in the saddle the last three in constant pursuit of the spotted mare despite the weariness thus occasioned, he was unable to obtain repose. At intervals he rose to his feet, and paced the floor of his hut, as if stirred by some exciting emotion.
For several nights he had slept uneasily at intervals tossing upon his catré till not only his henchman Phelim, but his hound Tara, wondered what could be the meaning of his unrest.
The former might have attributed it to his desire to possess the spotted mare; had he not known that his masters feverish feeling antedated his knowledge of the existence of this peculiar quadruped.
It was several days after his last return from the Fort that the yegua pinta had first presented herself to the eye of the mustanger. That therefore could not be the cause of his altered demeanour.
His success in having secured the animal, instead of tranquillising his spirit, seemed to have produced the contrary effect. At least, so thought Phelim: who with the freedom of that relationship known as foster-brother had at length determined on questioning his master as to the cause of his inquietude. As the latter lay shifting from side to side, he was saluted with the interrogatory
Masther Maurice, fwhat, in the name of the Howly Vargin, is the matther wid ye?
Nothing, Phelim nothing, mabohil! What makes you think there is?
Alannah! How kyan I help thinkin it! Yez kyant get a wink av sleep; niver since ye returned the last time from the Sittlement. Och! yez hiv seen somethin there that kapes ye awake? Shure now, it isnt wan av them Mixikin girls mowchachas, as they call them? No, I wont believe it. You wudnt be wan av the owld Geralds to care for such trash as them.
Nonsense, my good fellow! Theres nothing the matter with me. Its all your own imagination.
Trath, masther, yez arr mistaken. If theres anything asthray wid me imaginashun, fhwat is it thats gone wrong wid your own? That is, whin yez arr aslape which arent often av late.
When Im asleep! What do you mean, Phelim?
What div I mane? Fwhy, that wheniver yez close your eyes an think yez are sleepin, ye begin palaverin, as if a preast was confessin ye!
Ah! Is that so? What have you heard me say?
Not much, masther, that I cud make sinse out av. Yez be always tryin to pronounce a big name that appares to have no indin, though it begins wid a point!
A name! What name?
Sowl! I kyant till ye exakly. Its too long for me to remimber, seein that my edicashun was intirely neglicted. But theres another name that yez phut before it; an that I kyan tell ye. Its a wumans name, though its not common in the owld counthry. Its Looaze that ye say, Masther Maurice; an then comes the point.
Ah! interrupted the young Irishman, evidently not caring to converse longer on the subject. Some name I may have heard somewhere, accidentally. One does have such strange ideas in dreams!
Trath! yez spake the truth there; for in your drames, masther, ye talk about a purty girl lookin out av a carriage wid curtains to it, an tellin her to close them agaynst some danger that yez are going to save her from.
I wonder what puts such nonsense into my head?
I wondher meself, rejoined Phelim, fixing his eyes upon his young master with a stealthy but scrutinising look. Shure, he continued, if I may make bowld to axe the quistyun shure, Masther Maurice, yez havent been makin a Judy Fitzsummons mother av yerself, an fallin in love wid wan of these Yankee weemen out hare? Och an-an-ee! that wud be a misforthune; an thwat wud she say the purty colleen wid the goodlen hair an blue eyes, that lives not twinty miles from Ballyballagh?
Poh, poh! Phelim! youre taking leave of your senses, I fear.
Trath, masther, I arent; but I know somethin I wud like to take lave av.
What is that? Not me, I hope?
You, alannah? Niver! Its Tixas I mane. Id like to take lave of that; an you goin along wid me back to the owld sad. Arrah, now, fhwats the use av yer stayin here, wastin the best part av yer days in doin nothin? Shure yez dont make more than a bare livin by the horse-catchin; an if yez did, what mathers it? Yer owld aunt at Castle Ballagh cant howld out much longer; an when shes did, the bewtiful demane ll be yours, spite av the dhirty way shes thratin ye. Shure the propertys got a tail to it; an not a mothers son av them can kape ye out av it!
Ha! ha! ha! laughed the young Irishman: youre quite a lawyer, Phelim. What a first-rate attorney youd have made! But come! You forget that I havent tasted food since morning. What have you got in the larder?
Trath! theres no great stock, masther. Yez havent laid in anythin for the three days yez hiv been afther spotty. Theres only the cowld venison an the corn-bread. If yez like Ill phut the venison in the pat, an make a hash av it.
Yes, do so. I can wait.
Wont yez wait betther afther tastin a dhrap av the crayther?
True let me have it.
Will yez take it nate, or with a little wather? Trath! it wont carry much av that same.
A glass of grog[91] draw the water fresh from the stream.
Phelim took hold of the silver drinking-cup, and was about stepping outside, when a growl from Tara, accompanied by a start, and followed by a rush across the floor, caused the servitor to approach the door with a certain degree of caution.
The barking of the dog soon subsided into a series of joyful whimperings, which told that he had been gratified by the sight of some old acquaintance.
Its owld Zeb Stump, said Phelim, first peeping out, and then stepping boldly forth with the double design of greeting the new-comer, and executing the order he had received from his master.
The individual, who had thus freely presented himself in front of the mustangers cabin, was as unlike either of its occupants, as one from the other.
He stood fall six feet high, in a pair of tall boots, fabricated out of tanned alligator skin; into the ample tops of which were thrust the bottoms of his pantaloons the latter being of woollen homespun, that had been dyed with dog-wood ooze, but was now of a simple dirt colour. A deerskin under shirt, without any other, covered his breast and shoulders; over which was a blanket coat, that had once been green, long since gone to a greenish yellow, with most of the wool worn off.
There was no other garment to be seen: a slouch felt hat, of greyish colour, badly battered, completing the simple, and somewhat scant, collection of his wardrobe.
He was equipped in the style of a backwoods hunter, of the true Daniel Boone breed: bullet-pouch, and large crescent-shaped powder-horn, both suspended by shoulder-straps, hanging under the right arm; a waist-belt of thick leather keeping his coat closed and sustaining a skin sheath, from which protruded the rough stag-horn handle of a long-bladed knife.
He did not affect either mocassins, leggings, nor the caped and fringed tunic shirt of dressed deerskin worn by most Texan hunters. There was no embroidery upon his coarse clothing, no carving upon his accoutrements or weapons, nothing in his tout ensemble[92] intended as ornamental. Everything was plain almost to rudeness: as if dictated by a spirit that despised fanfaron.