"Go after him, you dunce!" he cried to the hired man. "I must watch this rascal. Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on the other fellow?"
"And I did, sir," was the weak answer. "He ran off before I knew it."
"Well, after him, I say! Don't stand there like a block of wood!"
"He--he may take it into his head to shoot me," faltered the hired man.
"He hasn't any pistol, we disarmed him," returned the farmer, frantically. "Are you going after him or not?"
"I'll go, sir," said the hired man, and hurried off as far as the bushes into which Mosey had first disappeared. But by that time the Irishman was a good hundred yards away, and running as rapidly as his limbs would carry him.
In the bushes the hired man came to a halt. He pretended to look around, but he did not venture a step further.
"Do you see him?" called out farmer Farrell.
"No, sir."
"Why don't you follow him up?"