“I was here onst, and, by the same token, I swore I 'd never come again. I lamed the best mare I ever put a collar on, dragging through this deep sand. Wirra, wirra! why the blazes would n't he live where other Christians do! There it is now; I see a light. Ah! bother them, it's out again.”
Pushing forward as well as he might in the direction he had seen the light, he floundered heavily on, the wheels sinking nearly to the axles, and the horse stumbling at every step.
“Your horse is worth nothing, my good fellow; he has n't strength to keep his legs,” said Dunn, angrily.
“Good or bad, I 'll give you lave to broil me on a gridiron if ever ye catch me coming the same road again. Ould Duun won't have much company if he waits for me to bring them.”
“I 'll take good care not to tempt you!” said Dunn, angrily.
And now they plodded on in moody silence till they issued forth upon a little flat space, bounded on three sides by the sea, in the midst of which a small two-storied house stood, defended from the sea by a rough stone breakwater that rose above the lower windows.
“There it is now, bad luck to it!” said the carman, savagely, for his horse was so completely exhausted that he was obliged to walk at his head and lift him at every step.
“You may remain here till I want you,” said Dunn, getting down and plodding his way through the heavy sand. Flakes of frothy seadrift swept past him as he went, and the wild wind carried the spray far inland in heavy showers, beating against the walls and windows of the lonely house, and making the slates rattle. A low wall of large stones across the door showed that all entrance by that means was denied; and Dunn turned towards the back of the house, where, sheltered by the low wall, a small door was detectable. He knocked several times at this before any answer was returned; when, at last, a harsh voice from within called out,—
“Don't ye hear who it is? confound ye! Open the door at once!” and Dunn was admitted into a large kitchen, where in a great straw chair beside the fire was seated the remains of a once powerful man, and who, although nearly ninety years of age, still preserved a keen eye, a searching look, and a quick impatience of manner rarely observable at his age.
“Well, father, how are you?” said Dunn, taking him affectionately by both hands, and looking kindly in his face.