"By the ghost of Moll Kelly," he cried, "I'm a lost mutton, as sure as eggs is chickens, if the sleep masthers me; the pipes is my only chance." So saying, he shook off the slumberous sensation, and, seizing the instrument, blazed out into a stormy attack upon "Garryowen," and, sure enough, something like a distant groan, as of disappointment, reached him at the very first snore of the chanter.
"Ha! ha!" he exclaimed, "it isn't an omadhaun all out yez has to dale wid this time, you little rascals, as cunnin' as ye think yerselves. Bedad, it won't do me any harm to make use of my eyes hereabouts; who knows but I may light atop of a fairy threasure, and drive the imptiness out of my pocket for ever and ever."
With this determination, the bold piper proceeded to investigate the character of the ground in his immediate neighborhood. For a short time he saw nothing remarkable except the circumstance of the whole surroundings being alive with fairies, to whose presence he was becoming more and more habituated; occasionally he would pause in his search to view with admiration the energetic way in which a group of workers attended to their specific duties. Observing at one time a more than usual commotion, he was led to give the affair particular scrutiny, when he discovered that it was the scene of a most animated contest between two distinct bodies of supernaturals.
An infant lily-of-the-valley was just raising its head above the yielding earth, softened and broken to assist its upward progress, by scores of busy atomies. Numbers showered its tender leaf with refreshing dew—procured, as Terry observed, by plunging into the hollow cup of some sturdy neighboring flower, then flying back to their charge, and shaking the nutritious drops from their wings—others, with mechanical ingenuity, held glasses by which they could concentrate the passing sunbeams upon the spot, when necessary; while others drove there with their united pinions the stray breezes, whose invigorating breath was needed.
While Terry was rapt in the delightful contemplation of this curious scene, all at once he saw that there was something of uncommon interest going on amongst the crowd. He observed, in the first instance, that although the labor was not for a moment suspended, yet a solid phalanx of armed fairies had formed about the immediate workers. The reason was soon obvious, for, careering round and round, or darting to and fro in zigzag courses almost as swiftly as the lightning itself, was an enormous dragon-fly, carrying on its glistening back a diminutive form of a brilliant green color, that flashed in the glancing light like living emerald. Wherever there was a tender young plant there its fierce attack was directed, and in all cases repelled by the brave little guardians.
This terrible monster—as it appeared even in Terry's eyes, when compared with the tiny creatures that surrounded him—seemed to have singled out the fragile lily-of-the-valley for its especial ferocity, for again and again it darted furiously against the unyielding defenders, only, however, to be repulsed at each charge, writhing and twisting its snaky body, punctured by the thorn-bayonets of the fairy-guard.
The indomitable courage and resolution of the defence at length prevailed, and after a last ineffectual effort to break through the chevaux-de-frise that protected the beleaguered flower, the dreadful enemy wheeled angrily two or three times around the spot, and at length darted upwards rapidly, and disappeared, to the manifest delight of the fairies. Soon, however, a yet more formidable danger threatened, for in the distance there approached a gigantic snail, dragging its noxious slime over every thing in its destructive path. Terry now observed evidences of the most intense solicitude and perturbation. The guard around the flower was trebled, scouts seemed to be called in from all quarters, hastening to a common rendezvous. Meantime the snail moved on in a direct line with the object of their care and anxiety.
"Now my fine fellows," said Terry, completely absorbed in the interesting scene, "how the mischief are yez goin' to manage that customer?"
Nearer and nearer crawled the snail, and at every onward movement the little crowd grew more agitated, scampering here and there, and overrunning each other in a perfect agony of apprehension and excitement, like a disturbed colony of ants. Multitudes of them cleared the small stumps of decayed grass, and rolled off the pebbles from a side path, in the hope of diverting Mr. Snail's course; but their engineering skill was fruitless—still on he came, crushing every delicate germ in his progress. He was now only about six inches away from the lily, and the trepidation of the fairies became so excessive, that it smote upon Terry's heart. He forgot for a moment or two that he himself was the arbiter of their fate.
"Mother o' Moses," said he; "it's afeared I am that yez goin' to get the worst of the fight, this time; heigh! at him agin, yer sowls," he shouted, clapping his hands by way of encouragement, as a crowd would try to push the snail from the direct path.