“On the cars, with the staff and the light brigade. It was down there I was now, to see all was right.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware; and now bring out the cattle. I hope Catrina received your little consolations well. That seems a very sad affair.”
“Murder, real murder, devil a less! It’s no matter where you go, from Clonmel to Chayney, it’s all one; they’ve a way of getting round you. Upon my soul, it’s like the pigs they are.”
“Like pigs, Mike? That appears a strange compliment you’ve selected to pay them.”
“Ay, just like the pigs, no less. May be you’ve heard what happened to myself up at Moronha?”
“Look to that girth there. Well, go on.”
“I was coming along one morning, just as day was beginning to break, when I sees a slip of a pig trotting before me, with nobody near him; but as the road was lonely, and myself rather down in heart, I thought, Musha! but yer fine company, anyhow, av a body could only keep you with him. But, ye see, a pig—saving your presence—is a baste not easily flattered, so I didn’t waste time and blarney upon him, but I took off my belt, and put it round its neck as neat as need be; but, as the devil’s luck would have it, I didn’t go half an hour when a horse came galloping up behind me. I turned round, and, by the blessed light, it was Sir Dinny himself was on it!”
“Sir Dennis Pack?”
“Yes, bad luck to his hook nose. ‘What are you doing there, my fine fellow?’ says he. ‘What’s that you have dragging there behind you?’
“‘A boneen, sir,’ says I. ‘Isn’t he a fine crayture?—av he wasn’t so troublesome.’