"That was no credit to her!" said John Kearney, eyeing the mare and her rider gloomily.
"'Twas a sweet gallop altogether," said Nancy's former owner, addressing Christian, and ignoring Mr. Kearney's challenge, "and the mare carried you to fortune! But sure it'd be as good for you to take her home now, Miss Christian, she has enough done. The fences from this out aren't too good at all." He cast a glance at Kearney.
"Faith, and that's true for you," said Kearney quickly, "Be said by us now, Miss Christian, and go home. The road isn't but two fields back. The hounds'll do no more good, sure the sun's too strong."
"Where are we?" broke in Larry, joining the group; "I've lost my bearings."
"Them's the Carmodys' bounds, sir," said Michael Donovan in a colourless voice, indicating the next fence.
"Carmody's?" said Larry. "Then isn't the Derrylugga gorse somewhere hereabouts? I see he's casting them ahead."
"It's burnt down," said Christian, hurriedly. Something in her face checked Larry's exclamation. In Ireland people learn to be silent on a very imperceptible hint.
The farmers moved away. Said Michael Donovan in a low voice to John Kearney:
"Will she go back, d'ye think?"
"I d'no. Har'ly, I think!"