Harry Woodward now began to apprehend that, as the reader sees, either
his star or that of _Shawn-na-Middogue_ must be in the ascendant. He
accordingly set to work with all his skill and craft to secure his
person and offer him up as a victim to the outraged laws of his country,
and to a government that had set a price upon his head, as the leader of
the outlaws; or, what came nearer to his wish, either to shoot him down
with his own hand, or have him shot by those who were on the alert for
such persons. The first individual to whom he applied upon the subject
was his benevolent step-father, who he knew was a magistrate, and whose
duty was to have the wretched class of whom we write arrested or shot as
best they might.
“Sir,” said he, “I think after what has befallen my dear brother Charles
that this murdering villain, Shawn-na-Middogue, who is at the head of
the tories and outlaws, ought to be shot, or taken up and handed over to
government.”
“Why,” asked Mr. Lindsay, “what has happened in connection with
Shawn-na-Middogue and your brother?”
“Why, that it was from his hand he received the wound that may be his
death. That, I think, is sufficient to make you exert yourself; and
indeed it is, in my opinion, both a shame and a scandal that the
subject has not been taken up with more energy by the magistracy of the
country.”
“But who can tell,” replied Lindsay, “whether it was Shawn-na-Middogue
that stabbed Charles? Charles himself does not know the individual who
stabbed him.”
“The language of the girl, I think,” replied Woodward, “might indicate
it. He was once her lover--”
“But she named nobody,” replied the other; “and as for lovers, she had
enough of them. If Shawn-na-Middogue is an outlaw now, I know who made
him so. I remember when there wasn't a better conducted boy on your
mother's property. He was a credit to his family and the neighborhood;
but they were turned out in my absence by your unfeeling mother there,
Harry; and the fine young fellow had nothing else for it but the life of
an outlaw. Confound me if I can much blame him.”
“Thank you, Lindsay,” replied his wife; “as kind as ever to the woman
who brought you that property. But you forget what the young scoundrel's
mother said of me--do you? that I had the Evil Eye, and that there was a
familiar or devil connected with me and my family?”
“Egad! and I'm much of her opinion,” replied her husband; “and if she
said it, I give you my honor it is only what every one who knows you
says, and what I, who know you best, say as well as they. Begone,
madam--leave the room; it was your damned oppression made the boy a
tory. Begone, I say--I will bear with your insolence no longer.”
He stood up as he spoke--his eye flashed, and the stamp of his foot
made the floor shake. Mrs. Lindsay knew her husband well, and without a
single syllable in reply she arose and left the room.
“Harry,” proceeded his stepfather, “I shall take no proceedings against
that unfortunate young man--tory though he be; I would resign my
magistracy sooner. Do not, therefore, count on me.”
“Well, sir,” said he, with a calm but black expression of countenance,
“I will not enter into domestic quarrels; but I am my mother's son.”
“You are,” replied Lindsay, looking closely at him--“and I regret it. I
do not like the expression of your face--it is bad; worse I have seldom
seen.”
“Be that expression what it may, sir,” replied Woodward, “by the heavens
above me I shall rest neither night nor day until I put an end to
Shawn-na-Middogue.”
“In the meantime you shall have no assistance from me, Harry; and it ill
becomes your mother's son--the woman whose cruelty to the family made
him what he is--to attempt to hunt him down. On the contrary, I tell
you as a friend to let him pass; the young man is desperate, and his
vengeance, or that of his followers, may come on you when you least
expect it. It is not his death that will secure you. If he dies through
your means, he will leave those behind him who will afford you but short
space to settle your last account.”
“Be the consequences what they may,” replied Woodward, “either he or I
shall fall.”
He left the room after expressing this determination, and his
step-father said,--
“I'm afraid, Maria, we don't properly understand Master Harry. I am
much troubled by what has occurred just now. I fear he is a hypocrite
in morals, and without a single atom of honorable principle. Did you
observe the expression of his face? Curse me if I think the devil
himself has so bad a one. Besides, I have heard something about him that
I don't like--something which I am not going to mention to you; but I
say that in future we must beware of him.”
“I was sorry, papa, to see the expression of his face,” replied Maria;
“it was fearful; and above all things the expression of his eye. It made
me feel weak whenever he turned it on me.”
“Egad, and it had something of the same effect on myself,” replied her
father. “There is some damned expression in it that takes away one's
strength. Well,” as I said, “we must beware of him.”
Woodward's next step was to pay a visit to Lord Cockletown, who, as he
had gained his title in consequence of his success in tory-hunting, and
capturing the most troublesome and distinguished outlaws of that day,
was, he thought, the best and most experienced person to whom he could
apply for information as to the most successful means of accomplishing
his object. He accordingly waited on his lordship, to whom he thought,
very naturally, that this exploit would recommend him. His lordship
was in the garden, where Woodward found him in hobnailed shoes, digging
himself into what he called his daily perspirations.
“Don't be surprised, Mr. Woodward,” said he, “at my employment; I am
taking my every-day sweat, because I feel that I could not drink as I
do and get on without it. Well, what do you want with me? Is it anything
about Tom? Egad, Tom says she rather likes you than otherwise; and if
you can satisfy me as to property settlements, and all that, I won't
stand in your way; but, in the meantime, what do you want with me now?
If it's Tom's affair, the state of your property comes first.”
“No, my lord, I shall leave all dealings of business between you and my
mother. This is a different affair, and one on which I wish to have your
lordship's advice and direction.”
“Ay, but what is it? Confound it, come to the point.”
“It is a tory-hunt, my lord.”
“Who is the tory, or who are the tories? Come, I'm at home here. What's
your plan?”
“Why, simple pursuit. We have the _posse comitatus_.”
“The _posse comitatus!_--the posse devil; what do the tories care about
the posse comitatus? Have you bloodhounds?”
“No, my lord, but I think we can procure them.”
“Because,” proceeded his lordship, “to go hunt a tory without
bloodhounds is like looking for your grandmother's needle in a bottle of
straw.”
“I am thankful to your lordship for that hint,” replied Harry Woodward;
“but the truth is, I have been almost since my infancy out of the
country, and am consequently, very ignorant of its usages.”
“What particular tory are you going to hunt?'”
“A fellow named Shawn-na-Middogue.”
[Illustration: PAGE 736-- _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim]
“Ah! _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim? Don't hunt him. If you're
wise you'll keep your distance from that young fellow. I tell you, Mr.
Woodward, there will be more danger to yourself in the hunt than
there will be to him. It's a well-known fact that it was your mother's
severity to his family that made a tory of him; and, as I said before, I
would strongly recommend you to avoid him. How many bloodhounds have you
got?”
“Why, I think we can muster half a dozen.”
“Ay, but do you know how to hunt them?”
“Not exactly; but I suppose we may depend upon the instinct of the
dogs.”
“No, sir, you may not, unless to a very limited extent. Those tories
always, when pursued by bloodhounds, go down the wind whenever it is
possible, and, consequently, leave very little trail behind them. Your
object will be, of course, to hunt them against the wind; they will
consequently have little chance of escape, unless, as they are often in
the habit of doing, they administer a sop.”
“What is a sop, my lord?”
“A piece of raw beef or mutton, kept for twenty-four hours under the
armpit until it becomes saturated with the moisture of the body; after
this, administer it to the dog, and instead of attacking he will follow
you over the world. The other sop resorted to by these fellows is the
middogue, or skean, and, as they contrive to manage its application, it
is the surer of the two. Should you like to see Tom?”
“Unquestionably, my lord. I intended before going to have requested the
honor of a short interview.”
“Ay, of course, to make love. Well, I tell you that Tom, like her
uncle, has her wits about her. Go up, then, you will find her in the
withdrawing-room; and listen--I desire that you will tell her of your
tory-hunting project, and ask her opinion upon it. Now, don't forget
that, because I will make inquiries about it.”
Woodward certainly found her in what was then termed the
withdrawing-room. She was in the act of embroidering, and received him
with much courtesy and kindness.
“I hope your mother and family are all well, Mr. Woodward,” she said;
“as for your sister Maria she is quite a stay-at-home. Does she ever
visit any one at all?”
“Very rarely, indeed, Miss Riddle: but I think she will soon do herself
the pleasure of calling upon you.”
“I shall feel much obliged, Mr. Woodward. From what I have heard, and
the little I have seen of her, a most amiable girl You have had a chat
with my kind-hearted, but eccentric uncle?”
“I have; and he imposed it on me as a condition that I should mention to
you an enterprise on which I am bent.”
“An enterprise! Pray, what is it?”
“Why, a tory-hunt; I am going to hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue, as he is
called, and I think it will be rendering the country a service to get
rid of him.”
Miss Riddle's face got pale as ashes; and she looked earnestly and
solemnly into Woodward's face.
“Mr. Woodward,” said she, “would you oblige me with one simple request?
Do not hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue: my uncle and I owe him our lives.”
“How is that, Miss Riddle?”
“Do you not know that my uncle was a tory hunter?”
“I have certainly heard so,” replied Woodward; “and I am, besides, aware
of it from the admirable instructions which he gave me concerning the
best method of hunting them down.”
“Yes, but did he encourage you in your determination of hunting down
Shawn-na-Middogue?”
“No, certainly; but, on the contrary, advised me to pass him by--to have
nothing to do with him.”
“Did he state his reasons for giving you such advice?”
“He mentioned something with reference to certain legal proceedings
taken by my mother against the family of Shawn-na-Middogue. But I
presume my mother had her own rights to vindicate, and beyond that I
know nothing of it. He nearly stabbed my brother to death, and I
will leave no earthly means unattempted to shoot the villain down, or
otherwise secure him.”
“Well, you are aware that my uncle was the most successful and
celebrated tory-hunter of his day, and rendered important services to
the government in that capacity--services which have been liberally
rewarded.”
“I am aware of it, Miss Riddle.”
“But you are not aware, as I am, that this same Shawn-na-Middogue saved
my uncle's life and mine on the night before last?”
“How could I, Miss Riddle?”
“It is a fact, though, and I beg you to mark it; and I trust that if
you respect my uncle and myself, you will not engage in this cruel and
inhuman expedition.”
“But your uncle mentioned nothing of this to me, Miss, Riddle.”
“He does not know it yet. I have been all yesterday thinking over the
circumstance, with a view of getting his lordship to interfere with
the government for this unfortunate youth; but I felt myself placed
in circumstances of great difficulty and delicacy with respect to your
family and ours. I hope you understand me, Mr. Woodward. I allude to the
circumstances which forced him to become an outlaw and a tory, and it
struck me that my uncle could not urge any application in his favor
without adverting to them.”
“O, Miss Riddle, if you feel an interest in his favor, he shall
experience no molestation from me.”
“The only interest which I feel in him is that of humanity, and
gratitude, Mr. Woodward; but, indeed, I should rather say that the
gratitude should not be common to a man who saved my uncle's life and
mine.”
“And pray may I ask how that came about? At all events he has made me
his friend forever.”
“My uncle and I were returning home from dinner,--we had dined at Squire
Dawson's,--and on coming to a lonely part of the road we found our
carriage surrounded by a party of the outlaws, who shouted out, 'This is
the old tory-hunter, who got his wealth and title by persecuting us,
and now we will pay him home for all,' 'Ay,' observed another, 'and
his niece is with him, and we will have her off to the mountains.' The
carriage was immediately surrounded, and I know not to what an extent
their violence and revenge might have proceeded, when Shawn same
bounding among them with the air of a man who possessed authority over
them.
“'Stop,' said he; 'on this occasion they must go free, and on every
occasion. Lord Cockletown, let him be what he may before, is of late a
good landlord, and a friend to the people. His niece, too, is--' He then
complimented me upon some trifling acts of kindness I had paid to his
family when--hem--ahem--in fact, when they stood much in need of it.”
This was a delicate evasion of any allusion to the cruel conduct of his
mother towards the outlaw's family.
“When,” she went on, “he had succeeded in restraining the meditated
violence of the tories, he approached me--for they had already dragged
me out, and indeed it was my screaming that brought him with such haste
to the spot. 'Now, Miss Riddle,' said he, in a low whisper which my
uncle could not hear, 'one good act deserves another; you were kind to
my family when they stood sorely in need of it. You and your uncle are
safe, and, what is more, will be safe: I will take care of that; but
forget Shawn-na Middogue, the outlaw and tory, or if ever you mention
his name, let it be in a spirit of mercy and forgiveness. Mr. Woodward,
you will not hunt down this generous young man?”
“I would as soon hunt down my father, Miss Riddle, if he were alive. I
trust you don't imagine that I can be insensible to such noble conduct.”
“I do not think you are, Mr. Woodward; and I hope you will allow the
unfortunate youth to remain unmolested until my uncle, to whom I shall
mention this circumstance this day, may strive to have him restored to
society.”
We need scarcely assure our readers that Woodward pledged himself in
accordance with her wishes, after which he went home and prepared such a
mask for his face, and such a disguise of dress for his person, as, when
assumed, rendered it impossible for any one to recognize him. Such was
the spirit in which he kept his promise to Miss Riddle, and such the
honor of every word that proceeded from his hypocritical lips.
In the meantime the preparations for the chase were made with the most
extraordinary energy and caution. Woodward had other persons engaged in
it, on whom he had now made up his mind to devolve the consequences of
the whole proceedings. The sheriff and the _posse comitatas_, together
with assistance from other quarters, had all been engaged; and as some
vague intelligence of _Shawn-na-Midoque's_ retreat had been obtained,
Woodward proceeded in complete disguise before daybreak with a party,
not one of whom was able to recognize him, well armed, to have what was,
in those days, called a tory-hunt.
The next morning was dark and gloomy. Gray, heavy mists lay upon the
mountain-tops, from which, as the light of the rising sun fell upon
them, they retreated in broken masses to the valleys and lower grounds
beneath them. A cold, chilly aspect lay upon the surface of the earth,
and the white mists that had descended from the mountain-tops, or were
drawn up from the ground by the influence of the sun, were, although
more condensed, beginning to get a warmer look.
Notwithstanding the secrecy with which this enterprise was projected it
had taken wind, and many of those who had suffered by the depredations
of the tories were found joining the band of pursuers, and many others
who were friendly to them, or who had relations among them, also made
their appearance, but contrived to keep somewhat aloof from the main
body, though not at such a distance as might seem to render them
suspected; their object being to afford whatever assistance they
could, with safety to themselves and without incurring any suspicion of
affinity to the unfortunate tories.
The country was of intricate passage and full of thick woods. At this
distance of time, now that it is cleared and cultivated, our readers
could form no conception of its appearance then. In the fastnesses and
close brakes of those woods lay the hiding-places and retreats of the
tories--“the wood kernes” of Spenser's day. A tory-hunt at that time,
or at any time, was a pastime of no common, danger. Those ferocious
and determined banditti had little to render life desirable. They
consequently set but a slight value upon it. The result was that the
pursuits after them by foreign soldiers, and other persons but slightly
acquainted with the country, generally ended in disaster and death to
several of the pursuers.
On the morning in question the tory-hunters literally beat the woods
as if they had been in the pursuit of game, but for a considerable time
with little effect. Not the appearance of a single tory was anywhere
visible; but, notwithstanding this, it so happened that some one of
their enemies occasionally dropped, either dead or wounded, by a shot
from the intricacies and covers of the woods, which, upon being
searched and examined, afforded no trace whatsoever of those who did
the mischief. This was harassing and provocative of vengeance to the
military and such wretched police as existed in that day. No search
could discover a single trace of a tory, and many of those in the
pursuit were obliged to withdraw from it--not unreluctantly, indeed, in
order to bear back the dead and wounded to the town of Rathfillan.
As they were entering an open space that lay between two wooded
enclosures, a white hare started across their path, to the utter
consternation of those who were in pursuit. Woodward, now disguised and
in his mask, had been for a considerable time looking behind him, but
this circumstance did not escape his notice, and he felt, to say
the least of it, startled at her second appearance. It reminded him,
however, of the precautions which he had taken; and he looked back from
time to time, as we have said, in expectation of something appertaining
to the pursuit. At length he exclaimed,
“Where are the party with the blood-hounds? Why have they not joined us
and come up with us?
“They have started a wolf,” replied one of them, “and the dogs are after
him; and some of them have gone back upon the trail of the wounded men.”
“Return for them,” said he; “without their assistance we can never
find the trail of these accursed tories; but, above all, of
Shawn-na-Middoque.”
In due time the dogs were brought up, but the trails were so various
that they separated mostly into single hunts, and went at such a rapid
speed that they were lost in the woods.
At length two of them who came up first, gave tongue, and the body of
pursuers concentrated themselves on the newly-discovered trail, keeping
as close to the dogs as they could. Those two had quartered the woods
and returned to the party again when they fell upon the slot of some
unfortunate victim who had recently escaped from the place. The pursuit
now became energetic and full of interest, if we could forget the
melancholy and murderous fact that the game pursued were human victims,
who had nothing more nor less to expect from their pursuers than the
savage wolves which then infested the forests--a price having been laid
upon the heads of each.
After some time the party arrived at the outskirts of the wood, and
an individual was seen bounding along in the direction of the
mountains--the two dogs in full pursuit of him. The noise, the
animation, and the tumult of the pursuit were now astounding, and rang
long and loud over the surface of the excited and awakened neighborhood,
whilst the wild echoes of their inhuman enjoyment were giving back their
terrible responses from the hills and valleys around them. The shouting,
the urging on of the dogs by ferocious cries of encouragement, were
loud, incessant, and full of a spirit which, at this day, it is terrible
to reflect upon. The whole country was alive; and the loud, vociferous
agitation which disturbed it, resembled the influence of one of those
storms which lash the quiet sea into madness. Fresh crowds joined them,
as we have said, and the tumult still became louder and stronger. In the
meantime, _Shawn-na-Middogue's_ case--it was he--became hopeless--for
it was the speed of the fleetest runner that ever lived to that of
two powerful bloodhounds, animated, as they were, by their ferocious
instincts. Indeed, the interest of the chase was heightened by the
manner and conduct of the dogs, which, when they came upon the trail of
the individual, in question, yelped aloud with an ecstatic delight that
gave fresh courage to the vociferous band of pursuers.
“Who can that man be?” asked one of them; “he seems to have wings to his
feet.”
“By the sacred light of day,” exclaimed another, “it is no other than
the famous _Shawn-na-Middogue_ himself. I know him well; and even if I
did not, who could mistake him by his speed of foot?”
“Is that he?” said the mask; “then fifty pounds in addition to the
government reward to the man who will shoot him down, or secure him,
living or dead: only let him be taken.”
Just then four or five persons, friends of course to the unfortunate
outlaw, came in before the dogs across the trail, in consequence
of which the animals became puzzled, and lost considerable time in
regaining it, whilst Shawn, in the meantime, was fast making his way to
the mountains.
The reward, however, offered by the man in the black mask--for it was
a black one--accelerated the speed of the pursuers, between whom a
competition of terrible energy and action arose as to which of them
should secure the public reward and the premium that were offered for
his blood. Shawn, however, had been evidently exhausted, and sat down
considerably in advance of them, on the mountain side, to take breath,
in order to better the chance of effecting his escape; but whilst
seated, panting after his race, the dogs gained rapidly upon him. Having
put his hand over his eyes, and looked keenly down--for he had the sight
of an eagle--the approach of the dogs did not seem at all to alarm him.
“Ah, thank God, they will have him soon,” said the mask, “and it is a
pity that we cannot give them the reward. Who owns those noble dogs?”
“You will see that very soon, sir,” replied a man beside him; “you will
see it very soon--you may see it now.”
As he uttered the words the dogs sprang upon Shawn, wagged their tails
as if in a state of most ecstatic delight, and began to caress him and
lick his face.
“Finn, my brave Finn!” he exclaimed, patting him affectionately, “and
is this you? and Oonah, my darling Oonah, did the villains think that my
best friends would pursue me for my blood? Come now,” said he, “follow
me, and we will lead them a chase.”
During this brief rest, however, four of the most active of his
pursuers, who knew what is called the lie of the country, succeeded,
by passing through the skirt of the wood in a direction where it, was
impossible to observe them, in coming up behind the spot where he had
sat, and consequently, when he and his dogs, or those which had been
once his, ascended its flat summit, the four men pounced upon him. Four
against one would, in ordinary cases, be fearful odds; but Shawn knew
that he had two stanch and faithful friends to support him. Quick as
lightning his _middogue_ was into one of their hearts, and almost as
quickly were two more of them seized by the throats and dragged down by
the powerful animals that defended him. The fourth man was as rapidly
despatched by a single blow, whilst the dogs were literally tearing out
the throats of their victims. In the course of about ten minutes, what
between Shawn's middogue and the terrible fangs and strength of those
dreadful animals, the four men lay there four corpses. Shawn's danger,
however, notwithstanding his success, was only increasing. His pursuers
had now gained upon him, and when he looked around he found himself
hemmed in, or nearly so. Speed of foot was everything; but, what was
worst of all, with reference to his ultimate escape, four other dogs
were making their way up the mountains--dogs to which he was a stranger,
and he knew right well that they would hunt him with all the deadly
instincts of blood. They were, however, far in the distance, and he
felt little apprehension from them. Be this as it may, he bounded off
accompanied by his faithful friends, and not less than twenty shots were
fired after him, none of which touched him. The number of his pursuers,
dogs included, almost made his heart sink; and would have done so, but
that he was probably desperate and reckless of life. He saw himself
almost encompassed; he heard the bullets whistling about him, and
perceived at a glance that the chances of his escape were a thousand to
one against him. With a rapid sweep of his eye he marked the locality.
It also was all against him. There was a shoreless lake, abrupt and deep
to the very edge, except a slip at the opposite side, lying at his feet.
It was oblong, but at each end of it there was nothing like a pass for
at least two or three miles. If he could swim across this he knew
that he was safe, and that he could do so he felt certain, provided
he escaped the bullets and the dogs of the pursuers. At all events he
dashed down and plunged in, accompanied by his faithful attendants. Shot
after shot was sent after him; and so closely did some of them reach
him, that he was obliged to dive and swim under water from time to
time, in order to save himself from their aim. The strange bloodhounds,
however, which had entered the lake, were gaining rapidly on him, and
on looking back he saw them within a dozen yards of him. He was now,
however, beyond the reach of their bullets, unless it might be a
longer shot than ordinary, but the four dogs were upon him, and in the
extremity of despair he shouted out,--“Finn and Oonah, won't you save
me?” Shame upon the friendship and attachment of man! In a moment two of
the most powerful of the strange dogs were in something that resembled
a death struggle with his brave and gallant defenders. The other two,
however, were upon himself; but by a stab of his middogue he despatched
one of them, and the other he pressed under water until he was drowned.
In the meantime, whilst the four other dogs were fighting furiously in
the water, Shawn, having felt exhausted, was obliged to lie on his back
and float, in order to regain his strength.
A little before this contest commenced, the black mask and a number of
the pursuing party were standing on the edge of the lake looking on,
conscious of the impossibility of their interference.
“Is there no stout man and good swimmer present,” exclaimed the mask,
“who will earn the fifty pounds I have offered for the capture of that
man?”
“Here am I,” said a powerful young fellow, the best swimmer, with the
exception of Shawn-na-Middogue, in the province. “I am like a duck in
the water; but upon my sowl, so is he. If I take him, you will give me
the fifty pounds?”
“Unquestionably; but you know you will have the government reward
besides.”
“Well, then, here goes. I cannot bring my carbine with me; but even
so--we will have a tug for it with my skean.”
He threw off his coat and barrad, and immediately plunged in and swam
with astonishing rapidity towards the spot where Shawn and the dogs--the
latter still engaged in their ferocious contest--were in the lake. Shawn
now had regained considerable strength, and was about to despatch the
enemies of his brave defenders, when, on looking back to the spot on the
margin of the lake where his pursuers stood, he saw the powerful young
swimmer within a few yards of him. It was well for him that he had
regained his strength, and such was his natural courage that he
felt rather gratified at the appearance of only a single individual.
“Shawn-na-Middogue,” said the young fellow, “I come to make you a
prisoner. Will you fight me fairly in the water?”
“I am a hunted outlaw--a tory,” replied Shawn, “and will fight you the
best way I can. If we were on firm earth I would fight you on your
own terms. If there is to be a fight between us, remember that you are
fighting for the government reward, and I for my life.”
“Will you fight me,” said the man, “without using your middogue?”
“I saw you take a skean from between your teeth as I turned round,”
replied Shawn, “and I know now that you are a villain and a treacherous
ruffian, who would take a cowardly advantage of me if you could.”
The fellow made a plunge at Shawn, who was somewhat taken by surprise.
They met and grappled in the water, and the contest between them was,
probably, one of the fiercest and most original that ever occurred
between man and man. It was distinctly visible to the spectators on
the shore, and the interest which it excited in them can scarcely be
described. A terrible grapple ensued, but as neither of them wished to
die by drowning, or, in fact, to die under such peculiar circumstances
at all, there was a degree of caution in the contest which required
great skill and power on both sides. Notwithstanding this caution,
however, still, when we consider the unsubstantial element on which
the battle between them raged--for rage it did--there were frightful
alternatives of plunging and sinking between them.
Shawn's opponent was the stronger of the two, but Shawn possessed in
activity what the other possessed in strength. The waters of the lake
were agitated by their struggles and foamed white about them, whilst, at
the same time, the four bloodhounds tearing each other beside them
added to the agitation. Shawn and his opponent clasped each other and
frequently disappeared for a very brief space, but the necessity to
breathe and rise to the air forced them to relax the grasps and seek the
surface of the water; so was it with the dogs. At length, Shawn, feeling
that his middogue had got entangled in his dress, which the water had
closely contracted about it, rendering it difficult, distracted as
he was by the contest, to extricate it, turned round and swam several
strokes from his enemy, who, however, pursued him with the ferocity of
one of the bloodhounds beside them. This ruse was to enable Shawn to
disengage his middogue, which he did. In the meantime this expedient of
Shawn's afforded his opponent time to bring out his skean,--two weapons
which differed very little except in name. They once more approached one
another, each with the armed hand up,--the left,--and a fiercer and more
terrible contest was renewed. The instability of the element, however,
on which they fought, prevented them from using their weapons with
effect. At all events they played about each other, offering and warding
off the blows, when Shawn exclaimed,--having grasped his opponent with
his right arm,--
“I am tired of this; it must be now sink or swim between us. To die here
is better than to die on the gallows.”
As he spoke both sank, and for about half a minute became invisible. The
spectators from the shore now gave them both over for lost; one of
them only emerged with the fatal middogue in his hand, but his opponent
appeared not, and for the best reason in the world: he was on his way
to the bottom of the lake. Shawn's exhaustion after such a struggle now
rendered his situation hopeless. He was on the point of going down when
he exclaimed:
“It is all in vain now; I am sinking, and me so near the only slip that
is in the lake. Finn and Oonah, save me; I am drowning.”
The words were scarcely out of his lips when he felt the two faithful,
powerful, and noble animals, one at each side of him--seeing as they
did, his sinking state--seizing him by his dress, and dragging him
forward to the slip we have mentioned. With great difficulty he got
upon land, but, having done so, he sat down; and when his dogs, in
the gambols of their joy at his safety, caressed him, he wept like an
infant--this proscribed outlaw and tory. He was now safe, however, and
his pursuers returned in a spirit of sullen and bitter disappointment,
finding that it was useless to continue the hunt any longer.