Off they went, with a light step and an easy heart, but when they were near home, whom should they see but Donald O’Neary, and all around him the cows were grazing, and the calves were kicking up their heels and butting their heads together.
“Is it you, Donald?” said Dudden. “Faith, you’ve been quicker than we have.”
“True for you, Dudden, and let me thank you kindly; the turn was good, if the will was ill. You’ll have heard, like me, that the Brown Lake leads to the Land of Promise. I always put it down as lies, but it is just as true as my word. Look at the cattle.”
Hudden stared, and Dudden gaped; but they couldn’t get over the cattle; fine, fat cattle they were, too.
“It’s only the worst I could bring up with me,” said Donald O’Neary; “the others were so fat, there was no driving them. Faith, too, it’s little wonder they didn’t care to leave, with grass as far as you could see, and as sweet and juicy as fresh butter.”
“Ah now, Donald, we haven’t always been friends,” said Dudden, “but, as I was just saying, you were ever a decent lad, and you’ll show us the way, won’t you?”
“I don’t see that I’m called upon to do that; there is a power more cattle down there. Why shouldn’t I have them all to myself?”
“Faith, they may well say, the richer you get, the harder the heart. You always were a neighborly lad, Donald. You wouldn’t wish to keep the luck all to yourself?”
“True for you, Hudden, though it’s a bad example you set me. But I’ll not be thinking of old times. There is plenty for all there, so come along with me.”
Off they trudged, with a light heart and an eager step. When they came to the Brown Lake the sky was full of little white clouds, and, if the sky was full, the lake was as full.