Joe Clinton was telling us one evening about a narrow escape he and Tom Brangan and a couple more of the boys had the night before in Rowan's demesne when they went to set their rabbit-snares, and very nearly fell into the hands of the police from Castletown, who had been told by the old Major to keep a look-out for poachers.
"We were just gettin' across the wall below at the dark avenue," Joe told us; "Tom was inside in the wood an' I was on top o' the wall, an' Phil Geraghty an' Andy Reilly was on the road, when we heard the sprigs cracklin' an' breakin' in the wood an' out comes a sheep, runnin' like from the lawn as if somethin' was after frightenin' her, an' then when the moon came out a bit from behind a cloud, didn't we see the two boyos tryin' to steal unknownst to us, along the brink o' the wood. I'm sure they heard me talkin' down to the lads on the road—an' Tom had only time to climb up the wall an' jump down after me, when we heard them tearin' in thro' the leaves an' brosna, an' sure we ran like a go-as-you-please race, an' the dickens a one of us was to be seen when they got as far as the wall."
"Only for the sheep you'd be nabbed," said Seumas Shanley.
"Oh, they had us as neat as could be, an' our darlin' han'ful o' new snares along with us," said Joe, "only that they frightened the sheep in the right time. She was a lucky sheep for us anyway."
"Sheep an' goats must be good to poachers always," said Ned M'Grane, as he let the hammer rest on the anvil, and cast the horse-shoe on which he had been working into the trough, "for 'twas Tim Brogan's old white goat that nearly thumped the life out o' the Scotch game-keeper that was in Archdale's, an' he runnin' after young Joe Magee long ago, an' 'twas a ram that saved Jimmy the Thrick when the Sojer M'Keon came at him an' he after killin' the two hares above on the Mullagh. The sheep an' goats must have a grâdh for the poachers, I'm thinkin'."
At the mention of "Jimmy the Thrick" we cocked our ears, because we knew that whenever Ned spoke of Jimmy he had a story to tell about him, and we knew that a story in which Jimmy figured was sure to be a good one. So we cocked our ears while Joe Clinton was asking Ned how the ram managed to save Jimmy from his enemies, and we were, I need hardly say, delighted when we noticed that Ned took out his pipe and commenced to fill it before he made any reply.
"There wasn't in all Ireland, I think, a poacher that had as much darin' in him as Jimmy the Thrick when he was a young fellow. There wasn't a hare or a rabbit in the country safe from him, an' neither gamekeeper nor peeler could ever lay hands on him. He was within an ace o' bein' caught as often as he has fingers an' toes on his body, an' every time, by hook or by crook, he'd dodge the peelers an' get away from them, an' every gamekeeper in the country 'd swear to you at the time that if there ever was a divil in Ireland that divil was Jimmy Malone. A hundred times they set traps for him an' failed to catch him. He'd take the hares an' rabbits from under their very noses almost, an' he often had a snare set above at Rowan's hall-door, but catch or catch they couldn't do on him. He could run as fast as a hare himself, an' he had more tricks an' dodges an' plans in his head than any hare that ever lay in a form. Sure one day an' the huntsmen an' the beagles in full cry after a hare below in Hoey's Bottom, didn't he watch beside a little gap in the wall that he knew she'd go through, and had a sack opened, with the mouth of it round the hole, an' when the poor hare came along at full speed thro' the gap, where did she go only right into the sack, an' Jimmy had her at home in his own house before the huntsmen knew that the hounds were after losin' the trail. Oh, he was a holy terror, the same Jimmy, but he was that lively an' full o' divilment an' fun, but with no bad turn in him, that the dickens a one in the country 'd say a word against him or give a hint o' where he'd be to peeler or anyone else.
"Well, one summer there came home a fellow that was after bein' a sojer out in India or somewhere—his name was Jack M'Keon, but no one called him anythin' only the Sojer M'Keon—an' o' course none o' the young fellows about 'd be seen in his company an' he after takin' John Bull's shillin' an' fightin' against them that never done him or his country any harm, so who did he get in with only Tony Smith that was gamekeeper in Rowan's at the time, an' it seems Tony promised to get him a job as a sort of under-gamekeeper after a while, because he used to do anythin' Tony 'd ask him to do; an' one o' the things was to pimp after and watch Jimmy Malone, an' to nab him in the act o' poachin' if he could.
"'Twas easy enough to make the Sojer do that, because he hated Jimmy from the time they used to be goin' to school in Kilfane together, an' had some row or other, an' along with that, too, M'Keon began skulkin' after a girl that Jimmy was fond of—Julia Dermody, that's his wife this thirty years nearly—an' that made the two o' them bitter enemies. M'Keon had some money after comin' home, wherever he got it—some used to say he robbed it, but no one was certain—an' old Hugh Dermody was more inclined to give him Julia than he was to give her to Jimmy Malone, because Jimmy was poor, an' old Dermody was a miser always. Julia 'd marry no one only Jimmy, but M'Keon thought that if he got him into jail for poachin' she'd be so much ashamed of it that she'd give him up an' marry himself. So you might say it was a bitter bit o' dodgin' between the peelers an' old Tony Smith an' the Sojer M'Keon against poor Jimmy the Thrick, an' only for he was the man he was, he'd spend many a long day in jail for his poachin'. But it was easier to catch a hare than to catch Jimmy Malone, so it was, an' many a hard run the Sojer M'Keon had after him for nothin', an' many a laugh there was through the country over Jimmy an' his tricks. An' the best of it was that the Sojer himself used to be poachin' as much as Jimmy, an' well the peelers knew that, an' the dickens a much of a grádh they had for him.
"Well, one fine July mornin' about four o'clock, Jimmy went over to the off side o' the Mullaghs to the farthest field next to Appleby's land—'twas called the Sheep Field that time as well as now, an' the Mullaghs belonged to the Rowans o' course—to look at a few snares he was after settin' in it the night before, an' didn't he get two darlin' fine hares an' they just nearly dead with the pullin' an' tuggin' they had to get away. Jimmy wasn't long finishin' them, and he was crossin' back next the wood again when all of a sudden he heard the racin' up behind him, an' before he could turn round he got a bump that lifted him off his feet, and then another, an' the next minute he was sprawlin' on the ground an' a big black-faced ram o' the old Major's standin' over him an' lookin' at him as much as to say, 'You're downed at last, Jimmy Malone!' Jimmy used to tell me after that he could read the very words in the ram's eyes the same as if he was sayin' them.