“Connor Egan, Hickman's man, gave me a pint and a noggin of spirits to cry the auction, and tould me to come up here and maybe you'd like to hear of it ye'selves.”
Lionel threw his eyes over the offensive lines, where in coarse ribaldry names the most venerable were held up to scorn and derision. If it was some satisfaction to find that his father was linked in the ruffianly attack with men of honor as unblemished as his own, he was not less outraged at the vindictive cowardice that had suggested this insult.
“There'll be a fine sight of people there, by all accounts,” said Flury, gravely, “for the auction-bills is far and near over the country, and the Castlebar coach has one on each door.”
“Is popular feeling always as corrupt a thing as this?” muttered Lionel, with a bitter sneer, while at the same time the door of the room was opened, and Daly entered. His face was marked by a severe cut on one cheek, from which the blood had flowed freely; a dark blue stain, as of a blow, was on his chin, and one hand he carried enveloped in his handkerchief; his clothes were torn besides in many places, and bore traces of a severe personal conflict.
“What has happened?” said Lionel, as he looked in alarm at the swollen and blood-stained features. “Did you fall?”
“Fall! no such thing, boy,” replied Daly, sternly; “but some worthy folk in Castlebar planned a little surprise for me this morning. They heard, it seems, that we passed through the town by daybreak, but that I was to return before noon; and so they placed some cars and turf creels in the main street, opposite the inn, in such a way that, while seeming merely accident, would effectually stop a horseman from proceeding. When I arrived at the spot, I halted, and called out to the fellows to move on, and let me pass. They took no heed of my words, and then I saw in a moment what was intended. I had no arms; I had purposely left my pistols behind me, for I feared something might provoke me, though not anticipating such as this. So I got down and drew this wattle from the side of a turf creel,—you see it is a strong blackthorn, and good stuff too. Before I was in the saddle the word was passed, and the whole street was full of people, and I now perceived that, by the same manouvre as they employed in front, they had also closed the rear upon me, and cut off my retreat. 'Now for it! now for it!' they shouted. 'Where's Bully Dodd?—Where's the Bully?' I suppose you know the fellow?”
“The man that was transported?”
“The same. The greatest ruffian the country was cursed with. He came at the call, without coat or waistcoat, his shirt-sleeves tucked up to his shoulders, and a handkerchief round his waist ready for a fight. There was an old quarrel between us, for it was I captured the fellow the day after he burnt down Dawson's house. He came towards me, the mob opening a way for him, with a pewter pot of porter in his hand.
“'We want you to dhrink a toast for us, Mr. Daly,' said he, with a marked courtesy, and a grin that amused the fellows around him. 'You were always a patriot, and won't make any objections to it.'
“'What is the liquor?' said I.