“It's one of knavery and roguery,” replied Bob, “sure devil a thing one of you knows only to believe in your Pope.”
“You had betther not abuse the Pope,” said Darby, “for fraid I'd give you a touch o' your ould complaint, the fallin' sickness, you know, wid my fist.”
“Two could play at that game, Darby, and I say, to hell with him—and the priests are all knaves and rogues, every one of them.”
“Are they, faith,” said Darby, “here's an answer for that, anyhow.”
“Text for text, you Popish rascal.”
A fierce battle took place on the open highway, which was fought with intense' bitterness on both sides. The contest, which was pretty equal, might, however, have been terminated by the defeat of one of them, had they been permitted to fight without support on either side; this, however, was not to be. A tolerably large crowd, composed of an equal number of Catholics and Protestants, collected from the adjoining fields, where they had been at labor, immediately joined them. Their appearance, unhappily, had only the effect of renewing the battle. The Catholics, ignorant of the turn which the controversy had taken, supported Bob and Protestantism; whilst the Protestants, owing to a similar mistake, fought like devils for Darby and the Pope. A pretty smart skirmish, in fact, which lasted more than twenty minutes, took place between the parties, and were it not that their wives, sisters, daughters, and mothers, assisted by many who were more peaceably disposed, threw themselves between them, it might have been much more serious than it was. If the weapons of warfare ceased, however, so did not their tongues; there was abundance of rustic controversy exchanged between them, that is to say, polemical scurrility much of the same enlightened character as that in the preceding dialogue. The fact of the two parties, too, that came to their assistance, having mistaken the proper grounds of the quarrel, reduced Darby and Bob to the necessity of retracing their steps, and hoisting once more their new colors, otherwise their respective friends, had they discovered the blunder they had committed, would, unquestionably, have fought the battle a second time on its proper merits. Bob, escorted by his Catholic friends, who shouted and huzza'd as they went along, proceeded to Father M'Cabe's; whilst Darby and his adherents, following their example, went towards M'Clutchy's, and having left him within sight of Constitution Cottage, they returned to their labor.
We have already said, that neither M'Clutchy nor M'Slime was at all a favorite with Darby. Darby was naturally as avaricious, and griping, and oppressive as either of them; and as he was the principal instrument of their rapacity and extortion, he deemed it but fair and just that they should leave him at least a reasonable share of their iniquitous gains. They were not, however, the gentlemen to leave much behind them, and the upshot was, that Darby became not only highly dissatisfied at their conduct towards him, but jealous and vigilant of all their movements, and determined to watch an opportunity of getting them both into his power. M'Slime's trick about M'Clutchy's letter first awoke his suspicions, and the reader is already acquainted with the dexterous piece of piety by which he secured it. Both letters now were in his possession, or at least in a safe place; but as he had not yet read them, he did not exactly know what line of conduct or deportment to assume. Then, how face M'Clutchy without M'Slime's answer? Darby, however, was fertile, and precisely the kind of man who could, as they sav, kill two birds with one stone. He had it;—. just the very thing that would serve every purpose. Accordingly, instead of going to M'Clutchy's at all, he turned his steps to his own house; tied an old stocking around his head, got his face bandaged, and deliberately took to his bed in a very severe state of illness. And, indeed, to tell the truth, a day or two in bed was not calculated to do him the least harm, but a great deal of good; for what, between the united contributions of Father M'Cabe and Bob Beatty, he was by no means an unfit subject for the enjoyment of a few days' retirement from public life.
CHAPTER XIV.—Poll Doolin's Honesty, and Phil's Gallantry
—A Beautiful but Cowardly Method of Destroying Female Reputation.—A Domiciliary Visit from the Blood-hounds—Irresponsible Power