“The 'invulnerable position'!” continued Magennis, perfectly heedless of the other's remark; while, taking up the poker, he stalked out to the middle of the room, drawing himself up to his full height, and presenting, as though with a pistol,—“Do you see what I mean?” cried he.
“I can't say I do,” said Jack, hesitatingly.
“I thought not,” rejoined the other, proudly; “nobody ever did that was n't 'out' often. Pay attention now, and I 'll explain it. My head, you perceive, is carried far behind my right shoulder, so as to be completely protected by my pistol-hand and the pistol. I say the pistol, because it has been proved scientifically that the steadiest eye that ever fired never could aim at the antagonist's pistol. Morris Crofton practised it for eight years in his own garden; and though he did succeed, he told me that for practical purposes it was no use. Now we come to the neck, and you may observe the bend of my elbow. Ay, that little angle that nobody would remark masks the jugular arteries, and all the other vital nerves in that part. John Toler used to say that the head and neck was like the metropolis, and that a shot elsewhere was only like a 'row' in the provinces; and a very true and wise remark it was. Not that I neglect the trunk,” added he, proudly; “for you see how I stand,—three-quarters of the back towards the enemy so as not to expose the soft parts. As for the legs,” cried he, contemptuously, “let them crack at them as long as they like.”
“And that 's the 'invulnerable position,'” said Massing-bred; with less enthusiasm, however, than the discovery might seem to warrant.
“It is, sir; and if it was n't for it there 's many a strapping fellow walking about this day-that would be lying with a marble counterpane over him. Billy Welsh, that fought Brian of Deanstown, was the first man I ever 'put up' in it. Billy had a slight crick of the neck, and could n't get the head far enough round to the right, and the ball took him in the bridge of the nose, and carried that feature clean off, but never damaged him in any other respect whatever!”
“I must say that the loss was quite sufficient for a man who had the benefit of the 'invulnerable position,'” said Massingbred, quietly.
“He thinks nothing of it. A chap in the Crow Street Theatre made him a better nose than ever he had, out of wax, I believe; and he has a winter one, with a blush of red on it, to make believe it was cold; and they tell me you 'd never discover it was n't his own.”
Magennis had now resumed his place at table, and seemed bent on making up for lost time by giving double measure of whiskey to his punch.
“You say that he's to be in Oughterard to-night; well, with the blessing of the Virgin,”—an invocation he invariably applied to every act of dubious morality,—“we 'll be with him before he's out of bed to-morrow!”
“I wish he had not given me a blow,” said Jack, musingly. “He seemed such a stout-hearted, spirited old fellow, I'm really grieved to quarrel with him.”