"Come forward, then," cried Bobby, seizing the free arm, "and shut that row. Now, then, all together! Push while I pull."
"Let up, or you'll have the arm off me!" cried the afflicted one. "Holy Mary! but you're murdering me! Go round to the room and pull at me legs if you want to pull. Maybe you'll get me in, for, be the powers, you may pull till you're black, but you'll never get me out."
"Right," said Bobby.
He ran round, entered the bedroom, which was in darkness, owing to the occlusion of the window, groped for the afflicted one's legs, found them, and pulled. Loud bellows from the night outside was the only result. First he pulled face fronting the window, and with one foot against the wall for purchase; then with his back to Giveen and with one leg under each arm, pulling like a horse in the shafts, he pulled.
"Good heavens!" said Mr. Dashwood at last, taking his seat on the bed and wiping the perspiration from his brow, "I don't know what we're to do with the bounder, unless we pull the cottage down."
CHAPTER XXVII
On the morning of the 10th of April Mr. French awoke from a night of pleasant dreams to find the sun shining broad and strong through the window of his bedroom.
He had dreamt of the great race; he had seen in a glorified vision the field sweeping round Tattenham Corner, Garryowen a length ahead of the favourite; he had heard the roar of the crowd, and had been congratulated by all sorts of dream-people, and the exhilaration of the vision clung to him as he dressed and accompanied him as he breakfasted.