“That’s jest ’bout what he does own,” replied Black Tom, with grim humor.
“He reminds mesilf, whin I used to sit down in the pratie patch at home, in Tipperary, and think I owned the whole of it, and so I would, if it hadn’t been that anuther chap claimed it.”
During these few minutes, all three of the men had been reloading their guns, as best they could in their circumscribed position. When ready it was arranged that they should discharge their pieces together, at the head of the monster.
This was done, and incredible as it may seem, without result. Struck it undoubtedly was, for it gave a slight twitch with its head, as a dog will do, when pestered with a fly, but it certainly was no more harmed than it would have been by such an insect.
At so short a distance, with such a plain target, it would have been impossible for the bullets to miss their mark, so that no refuge from the difficulty could be taken in that supposition.
The brute sat motionless a moment, with his gaze upon the burning faggots, and then rising from his sitting position, walked around to the other side of the fire, and took his seat directly under the sapling which was the refuge of Teddy O’Doherty.
“Ye dirthy blaguard, ye needn’t come there,” he growled, as he looked down at him; “ye’re a dirthy dog, as me Bridget used to obsarve, affectionately, when she saw me comin’ in her shanty av Soonday avening.”
“He’s fell in love with you,” remarked Black Tom, who thought he could afford to jest a little, so long as the brute made no active demonstrations against him.
“I guess he’s turned watch-dog,” said Stebbins, “and is going to keep the other spooks away.”
It may be stated that the demonstration which the trappers had just received of the invulnerability of the mysterious creature was complete in every respect. They would have staked any thing and every thing that it could have stood without flinching before a battery of columbiads. Under these circumstances, therefore, they did not deem it wise to waste any more powder in firing upon it.