He said nothing, but bade me unload.
The turnips were soon taken out. Under them was a layer of sacking, and
under that some thirty or forty muskets, with a box or two of
ammunition.
These Mr Callan and I carefully carried up to a loft and deposited in a
hollow space which had been prepared in a pile of hay, which was
carefully covered up again, so as to leave no trace of the murderous
fodder it hid.
"Tell Mr Gorman--tell your father, I mean, that his turnips are in
great demand, and I can sell all he's got."
"I will," said I.
"Now put in the horse and take your rest, for you must start back
betimes in the morning."
"Plaze, sir," I ventured to say, "I'd sooner eat than sleep, by your
leave."
"You shall do both," said he, for he was in great good-humour.
So I got a bite of pork and a scone, and curled myself up in the warm
hay and slept like a top.
Before daybreak Mr Callan roused me.
"Make haste now," said he, "or you'll not be home by night. And see
here, I've a message for Mr Gorman."
"Mr Gorman?" said I, remembering what I had been told.
"You are right, sonnie. You do not know Mr Gorman," said the
tradesman, slapping me on the back and laughing. "If you did know him,
I would have bid you tell him that people talk of him here, and say he
lacks zeal in a good cause. If lie is resolved to deal in turnips, he
must deal in them largely, and not go behind our backs to them that deal
in other trades. Mark that."
I confess it sounded very like a riddle, and I had to say the words over
many times to myself before I could be sure of carrying them.
Then, my cart being loaded with straw, I bade Mr Callan good-day, and
started on my long journey back to Knockowen.