“He’s used to guns,” I said. “He thinks we are cow-shooting.”
“He’s gone to retrieve the game,” replied my cousin in a hollow voice.
In another instant the bulldog had overtaken his prey, and the next, our knees tottering under us with horror, we saw him swinging from her nose by his teeth, while her bellowings rent the skies. Back she came down the hill, flinging her head from side to side, while the bulldog adhered with limpet tenacity to her nose, and, jumping the bog-ditch like a hunter, she set off down the road, followed by a trumpeting host of friends and sympathisers who had re-gathered from the mountain-side on hearing her cries. The whole adventure had been forced upon us so suddenly and unexpectedly that we had no time to argue away the illogical feeling that we were responsible for the bulldog’s iniquities. I see now that the sensible thing would have been to have gone and hid about among the rocks till it was all over. But that course did not occur to us till afterwards. As a matter of fact, my cousin crammed the pistol into her uninjured pocket, I filled my hands with stones, and we pursued at our best speed, seeing from time to time above the heaving backs and brandished tails of the galloping cattle the dark body of the bulldog as he was swung into the air over his victim’s head. Suddenly the whole cortége wheeled, and flourished up a bohireen that led to a cottage, and in the quick turn the cow fell on her knees, and lay there exhausted, with the bulldog prone beside her, exhausted too, but still holding on. The presumable owner of the cow arrived on the scene at the same instant that we did.
“Call off yer dog!” he roared, in a fearful voice.
“He’s not ours!” we panted; “but come on, and we’ll beat him off!” the bulldog’s evident state of collapse encouraging us to this gallantry.
The man’s only reply was to pick up a large stone, and heave it at the dog. It struck his brindled ribs a resounding blow, but he was too much blown to bear malice satisfactorily; to our deep relief he crawled to his feet, slunk away past us on to the main road, and, setting off at a limping trot in the direction from which he had come, presently vanished into the mist.
The man stooped down and examined the poor cow’s torn and bleeding nose, and she lay, wild-eyed, with heaving sides, at our feet.
“That the divil may blisther the man that owns him!” he said; “and if he isn’t your dog, what call have you taking him out to be running my cows?”
“We met him on the road,” we protested. “We couldn’t help his following us.”
“Aha! thin it’s one of them dirty little fellows of officers that has the fishing lodge below that he belongs to!” said the man. “I heard a shot awhile ago, and ye may b’lieve me I’ll have the law o’ them.”