Murtagh made no answer, but falling on his knees beside Royal, he laid his cheek against the dog's muzzle to feel if there were any breath. Then his mournful eyes and sad shake of the head confirmed Winnie's words. Mr. Plunkett and the two men had known it for some minutes; but as Mr. Plunkett stood watching the group of children he felt a strange, unusual moisture rising to his eyes, and he turned and walked away.
As they realized that the dog was dead, Rosie and Bobbo began to cry; the other two sat dry-eyed, gazing at Royal.
The men stood one side for a few moments, but then they came forward and began to make remarks and offer consolation.
"He was a beautiful creathure," said Hickey, "and indeed it would serve old Plunkett right if he got shot with the very same gun. But there, don't take on so, bless yer hearts; the master'll get yez another dog as fine as ever this was."
While Pat was speaking Phelim stooped down, and idly taking one of Royal's paws, shook it slowly backwards and forwards. Winnie put out her hand to prevent the sacrilege, and looking up at Murtagh said, "Take them away, Murtagh, all of them."
"We'd better take the dog with us and bury him," said Phelim; "a big dog like that'll want buryin'."
"No, no," cried Murtagh, with a quick glance towards Winnie, which seemed to say he would have protected her from the words if he could. "Come away, all of you, and leave her alone."
And so Winnie was left sitting on the ground with her dead dog's head resting on her lap. Bobbo and Rosie returned to the house to tell the sad news to Nessa. The two men went to find Mr. Plunkett, but Murtagh wandered away by himself into the woods higher up the river.
The men having found Mr. Plunkett at home inquired what they were to do about the hut. Was it to be taken down?
"Yes, of course."