"That we may, I pray. You'll put the ball a trifle on its way if we do, Emon."
"No, Phil, that is the very point I want to settle with you. I have always remarked that when the winner of the toss throws the ball toward the other goal, it is always met by some good man who is on the watch for it; and as none of the opposite party are allowed into their ground until 'the game is on,' he has it all to himself, and generally deals it such a swipe as puts it half-way back over the others' heads. Now my plan is this. If I win 'the toss,' I'll throw the ball more toward our own goal than toward theirs. Let you be there, Phil, to meet it; and I have little fear that the first puck you give it will send it double as far into our opponent's ground as I could throw it with my hand. Beside, the moment the ball is up, our men can advance all over the ground, and another good man of ours may help it on. What say you, Phil?"
"Well, Emon, there's a grate dale of raison in what you say, now that I think of it; but I never seen it done that way afore."
It had been thus settled between these two best men of Shanvilla; and Emon, having won the toss, cast his eye over his shoulder and caught a side glance of Phil M'Dermott in position, with his hurl poised for action.
Contrary to all experience and all expectation, Emon-a-knock, instead of casting the ball from him, toward the other goal, threw it as high as possible, but unmistakably inclining toward his own. Here there was a murmur of disappointed surprise from Shanvilla on the hill. But it was soon explained. Phil M'Dermott had it all his own way for the first puck, which was considered a great object. Never had such an expedient (nunc dodge) to secure it been thought of before. M'Dermott had full room to deal with it. There was no one near him but his own men, who stood exulting at what they knew was about to come. M'Dermott with the under side of his hurl rolled the ball toward him, and curling it up into the air about a foot above his head, met it as it came down with a puck that was heard all over the hills, and drove it three distances beyond where Emon could have thrown it from his hand. The object of the backward cast by the leader had now been explained to the satisfaction of Shanvilla, whose cheers of approbation loudly succeeded to their previous murmurs of surprise.
"Be gorra, they're a knowing pair," said one of the spectators on the hill.
But I cannot attend to the game, which is now well "on,"' and tell you what each party said during the struggle.
Of course the ball was met by Rathcash, and put back; but every man was now at work as best he might, where and when he could, but not altogether from under a certain sort of discipline and eye to their leaders. Now some fortunate young fellow got an open at the ball, and gave it a puck which sent it spinning through the crowd until stopped by the other party. Then a close struggle and clashing of hurls, as if life and death depended on the result. Now, again, some fellow gets an open swipe at it, and puck it goes over their heads, while a rush of both parties takes place toward the probable spot it must arrive at; then another crowded struggle, and ultimately another puck, and it is seen like a cannon-ball on the strand at Sandymount. Another rush, another close struggle and clashing of hurls, and puck, puck; now at the jaws of this goal, now at the jaws of that, while the cheers and counter-cheers re-echo through the surrounding hills.
It is needless to say that Tom Murdock and Emon-a-knock were conspicuous in all these vicissitudes of the game. No man took the ball from either of them if he was likely to get a puck at it in time; but no risk of a counter-puck would be run if an opponent was at hand to give it. This was the use of the distinguishing colors, and right curious it was to see the green and red sleeves twisting through each other and rushing in groups to one spot.
After all, Emon's color "did not look so bad;" and Shanvilla held their own so gallantly as the game went on, that betting—for it was a sort of Derby-day with the parish gamblers—which was six, and even seven, to four on Rathcash at the commencement, was now even for choice. Ay, there is one red-haired fellow, with a small eye and a big one, who shoves three thimbles upon a board at races, has offered five fippenny-bits to four upon Shanvilla; and well he may, for Emon and his men had got the ball amongst them, and Emon's orders were to keep it close—not to puck it at all, now that they had it, but to tip it along and keep round it in a body. This was quite fair, and would have been adopted by the other party had they got the chance.