“Bravo, Toro.”
As it chanced that many of Mr. Kennyfeck's clients were Western
gentlemen, whose tastes have an unequivocal tendency to all matters
relating to horse-flesh, his stable was not less choicely furnished
than his cellar; for, besides being always able to command the shrewdest
judgments when he decided to make a purchase, many an outstanding
balance of long duration, many a debt significantly pencilled “doubtful”
or “bad,” in his note-book, was cleared off by some tall, sinewy
steeplechaser from Galway, or some redoubted performer with the
“Blazers.”
So well known was this fact that several needed no other standard of a
neighbor's circumstances, than whether he had contributed or not to the
Kennyfeck stud. This brief explanation we have been induced to make, to
account for the sporting character of a stable whose proprietor never
was once seen in the saddle. Far otherwise the ladies of the house; the
mother and daughters, but in particular the elder, rode with all the
native grace of Galway; and as they were invariably well mounted, and
their grooms the smartest and best appointed, their “turn-out” was the
admiration of the capital.
It was in vain that the English officials at the Castle, whose
superlative tastes were wont to overshadow mere Irish pretension,
endeavored to compete with these noted equestrians. Secretaries' wives
and chamberlains' daughters, however they might domineer in other
matters, were here, at least, surpassed, and it was a conceded fact,
that the Kennyfecks rode better, dressed better, and looked better on
horseback than any other girls in the country. If all the critics as to
horsemanship pronounced the elder unequivocally the superior rider,
mere admirers of gracefulness preferred the younger sister, who,
less courageous and self-possessed, invested her skill with a certain
character of timidity that increased the interest her appearance
excited.
They never rode out without an immense _cortège_ of followers, every
well-looking and well-mounted man about town deeming it his _devoir_ to
join this party, just as the box of the reigning belle at the opera is
besieged by assiduous visitors The very being seen in this train was
a kind of brevet promotion in fashionable esteem, to which each
newly-arrived cornet aspired, and thus the party usually presented
a group of brilliant uniforms and dancing plumes that rivalled in
brilliancy, and far excelled in amusement, the staff of the viceroy
himself.
It would be uufair to suppose that, with all their natural innocence
and artlessness, they were entirely ignorant of the sway they thus
exercised; indeed, such a degree of modesty would have trenched upon the
incredulous, for how could they doubt what commanders of the forces
and deputy-assistant-adjutants assured them, still less question the
veracity of a prince royal, who positively asserted that they “rode
better than Quentin's daughter”?
It was thus a source of no small excitement among the mounted loungers
of the capital, when the Kennyfecks issued forth on horseback, and not,
as usual, making the tour of the “Square” to collect their forces, they
rode at once down Grafton Street, accompanied by a single cavalier.
“Who have the Kennyfeck girls got with them?” said a
thin-waisted-looking aide-de-camp to a lanky, well-whiskered fellow in a
dragoon undress, at the Castle gate.
“He is new to me--never saw him before. I say, Lucas, who is that tall
fellow on Kennyfeck's brown horse--do you know him?”
“Don't know--can't say,” drawled out a very diminutive hussar cornet.
“He has a look of Merrington,” said another, joining the party.
“Not a bit of it; he's much larger. I should n't wonder if he's one of
the Esterhazys they've caught. There is one of them over here--a Paul or
a Nicholas, of the younger branch;--but here 's Linton, he 'll tell us,
if any man can.”
This speech was addressed to a very dapper, well-dressed man of about
thirty, mounted on a small thoroughbred pony, whose splashed and heaving
flanks bespoke a hasty ride.
“I say, Tom, you met the Kennyfecks,--who was that with them?”
“Don't you know him, my Lord?” said a sharp, ringing voice; “that's our
newly-arrived millionnaire,--Roland Cashel, our Tipperary Croesus,--the
man with I won't say how many hundred thousands a year, and millions in
bank besides.”
“The devil it is--a good-looking fellow, too.”
“Spooney, I should say,” drawled out the hussar, caressing his
moustache.
“One need n't be as smart a fellow as you, Wheeler, with forty thousand
a year,” said Linton, with a sly glance at the others.
“You don't suppose, Tom,” said the former speaker, “that the Kennyfecks
have any designs in that quarter,--egad! that would be rather aspiring,
eh?”
“Very unwise in us to permit it, my Lord,” said Linton, in a low tone.
“That's a dish will bear carving, and let every one have his share.”
My Lord laughed with a low cunning laugh at the suggestion, and nodded
an easy assent.
Meanwhile the Kennyfecks rode slowly on, and crossing Essex Bridge
continued their way at a foot pace towards the park, passing in front of
the Four Courts, where a very large knot of idlers uncovered their heads
in polite salutation as they went.
“That's Kennyfeck's newly-discovered client,” cried one; “a great card,
if they can only secure him for one of the girls.”
“I say, did you remark how the eldest had him engaged? She never noticed
any of us.”
“I back Olivia,” said another; “she's a quiet one, but devilish sly for
all that.”
“Depend upon it,” interposed an older speaker, “the fellow is up to all
that sort of thing.”
“Jones met him at dinner yesterday at Kennyfeck's, and says he is a
regular soft one, and if the girls don't run an opposition to each
other, one is sure to win.”
“Why not toss up for him, then? that would be fairer.”
“Ay, and more sisterly, too,” said the elder speaker. “Jones would be
right glad to claim the beaten horse.”
“Jones, indeed,--I can tell you they detest Jones,” said a young fellow.
“They told you so, eh, Hammond?” said another; while a very hearty laugh
at the discomfited youth broke from the remainder.
And now to follow our mounted friends, who, having reached the park,
continued still at a walking pace to thread the greasy paths that
led through that pleasant tract; now hid amid the shade of ancient
thorn-trees, now gaining the open expanse of plain with its bold
background of blue mountains.
From the evident attention bestowed by the two sisters, it was clear
that Cashel was narrating something of interest, for he spoke of an
event which had happened to himself in his prairie life; and this alone,
independent of all else, was enough to make the theme amusing.
“Does this convey any idea of a prairie, Mr. Cashel?” said Miss
Kennyfeck, as they emerged from a grove of beech-trees, and came upon
the wide and stretching plain, so well known to Dubliners as the Fifteen
Acres, but which is, in reality, much greater in extent. “I have always
fancied this great grassy expanse must be like a prairie.”
“About as like as yonder cattle to a herd of wild buffaloes,” replied
Roland, smiling.
“Then what is a prairie like? Do tell us,” said Olivia, eagerly.
“I can scarcely do so, nor, if I were a painter, do I suppose that I
could make a picture of one, because it is less the presence than the
total absence of all features of landscape that constitutes the wild
and lonely solitude of a prairie. But fancy a great plain--gently--very
gently undulating,--not a tree, not a shrub, not a stream to break the
dreary uniformity; sometimes, but even that rarely, a little muddy pond
of rain-water, stagnant and yellow, is met with, but only seen soon
after heavy showers, for the hot sun rapidly absorbs it. The only
vegetation a short yellowed burnt-up grass,--not a wild flower or a
daisy, if you travelled hundreds of hundreds of miles. On you go, days
and days, but the scene never changes. Large cloud shadows rest upon
the barren expanse, and move slowly and sluggishly away, or sometimes a
sharp and pelting shower is borne along, traversing hundreds of miles
in its course; but these are the only traits of motion in the death-like
stillness. At last, perhaps after weeks of wandering, you descry, a long
way off, some dark objects dotting the surface,--these are buffaloes; or
at sunset, when the thin atmosphere makes everything sharp and distinct,
some black spectral shapes seem to glide between you and the red
twilight,--these are Indian hunters, seen miles off, and by some strange
law of nature they are presented to the vision when far, far beyond the
range of sight. Such strange apparitions, the consequence of refraction,
have led to the most absurd superstitions; and all the stories the
Germans tell you of their wild huntsmen are nothing to the tales every
trapper can recount of war parties seen in the air, and tribes of red
men in pursuit of deer and buffaloes, through the clear sky of an autumn
evening.”
“And have you yourself met with these wild children of the desert?” said
Olivia; “have you ever been amongst them?”
“Somewhat longer than I fancied,” replied Roland, smiling. “I was a
prisoner once with the Camanches.”
“Oh, let us hear all about it,--how did it happen?” cried both together.
“It happened absurdly enough, at least you will say so, when I tell you;
but to a prairie-hunter the adventure would seem nothing singular. It
chanced that some years ago I made one of a hunting-party into the Rocky
Mountains, and finally as far as Pueblo Santo, the last station before
entering the hunting-grounds of the Camanches, a very fierce tribe,
and one with whom all the American traders have failed to establish
any relations of friendship or commerce. They care nothing for the
inventions of civilization, and, unlike all other Indians, prefer their
own bows and arrows to firearms.
“We had been now four days within their boundary, and yet never met
one of the tribe. Some averred that they always learned by the scouts
whenever any invasion took place, and retired till they were in
sufficient force to pour down and crush the intruders. Others, who
proved better informed, said that they were hunting in a remote tract,
several days' journey distant. We were doubly disappointed, for besides
not seeing the Camanches, for which we had a great curiosity, we did not
discover any game. The two or three trails we followed led to nothing,
nor could a hoof-track be seen for miles and miles of prairie. In this
state of discomfiture, we were sitting one evening around our fires, and
debating with ourselves whether to turn back or go on, when, the dispute
waxing warm between those of different opinions, I, who hated all
disagreements of the kind, slipped quietly away, and throwing the bridle
on my horse, I set out for a solitary ramble over the prairie.
“I have the whole scene before me this instant,--the solemn desolation
of that dreary track; for scarcely had I gone a mile over what seemed a
perfectly level plain, when the swelling inequalities of the ground shut
out the watch-fires of my companions, and now there was nothing to be
seen but the vast expanse of land and sky, each colored with the same
dull leaden tint of coming night; no horizon was visible, not a star
appeared, and in the midst of this gray monotony, a stillness prevailed
that smote the heart with something more appalling than mere fear. No
storm that ever I listened to at sea, not the loudest thunder that ever
crashed, or the heaviest sea that ever broke upon a leeward shore at
midnight, ever chilled my blood like that terrible stillness. I thought
that the dreadful roll of an avalanche or the heaving ground-swell of
an earthquake had been easier to bear. I believe I actually prayed for
something like sound to relieve the horrible tension of my nerves, when,
just as if my wish was heard, a low booming sound, like the sea within a
rocky cavern, came borne along on the night wind. Then it lulled again,
and after a time grew louder. This happened two or three times, so
that, half suspecting some self-delusion, I stopped my ears, and then on
removing my hands, I heard the noise increasing till it swelled into one
dull roaring sound, that made the very air vibrate. I thought it must
be an earthquake, of which it is said many occur in these regions, but,
from the dreary uniformity, leave no trace behind.
“I resolved to regain my companions at once; danger is always easier
to confront in company, and so I turned my horse's head to go back. The
noise was now deafening, and so stunning that the very ground seemed to
give it forth. My poor horse became terrified, his flanks heaved, and he
labored in his stride as if overcome by fatigue. This again induced me
to suspect an earthquake, for I knew by what singular instincts animals
are apprised of its approach. I therefore gave him the spur, and urged
him on with every effort, when suddenly he made a tremendous bound
to one side, and set off with the speed of a racer. Stretched to his
fullest stride, I was perfectly powerless to restrain him; meanwhile,
the loud thundering sounds filled the entire air,--more deafening than
the greatest artillery; the crashing uproar smote my ears, and made my
brain ring with the vibration, and then suddenly the whole plain grew
dark behind and at either side of me, the shadow swept on and on, nearer
and nearer, as the sounds increased, till the black surface seemed, as
it were, about to close around me; and now I perceived that the great
prairie, far as my eyes could stretch, was covered by a herd of wild
buffaloes; struck by some sudden terror, they had taken what is called
'the Stampedo,' and set out at full speed. In an instant they
were around me on every side,--a great moving sea of dark-backed
monsters,--roaring in terrible uproar, and tossing their savage heads
wildly to and fro, in all the paroxysm of terror. To return, or even to
extricate myself, was impossible; the dense mass pressed like a wall
at either side of me, and I was borne along in the midst of the heaving
herd, without the slightest hope of rescue. I cannot--you would not ask
me, if even I could--recall the terrors of that dreadful night, which in
its dark hours compassed the agonies of years. Until the moon got up,
I hoped that the herd might pass on, and at last leave me at liberty
behind; but when she rose, and I looked back, I saw the dark sea of
hides, as if covering the whole wide prairie, while the deep thunder
from afar mingled with the louder bellowing of the herd around me.
“I suppose my reeling brain became maddened by the excitement; for even
yet, when by any accident I suffer slight illness, terrible fancies of
that dreadful scene come back; and I have been told that, in my wild
cries and shouts, I seem encouraging and urging on the infuriate herd,
and by my gestures appearing to control and direct their headlong
course. Had it been possible, I believe I should have thrown myself to
the earth and sought death at once, even in this dreadful form, than
live to die the thousand deaths of agony that night inflicted; but this
could not be, and so, as day broke, I was still carried on, not, indeed,
with the same speed as before; weariness weighed on the vast moving
mass, but the pressure of those behind still drove them onward. I
thought the long hours of darkness were terrible; and the appalling
gloom of night added tortures to my sufferings; but the glare of
daylight, the burning sun, and the clouds of dust were still worse. I
remember, too, when exhaustion had nearly spent my last frail energy,
and when my powerless hands, letting fall the bridle, dropped heavily to
my side, that the herd suddenly halted,--halted, as if arrested by some
gigantic hand; and then the pressure became so dreadful that my bones
seemed almost bursting from my flesh, and I screamed aloud in my agony.
After this, I remember little else. The other events of that terrible
ride are like the shadowy spectres of a magic lantern; vague memories
of sufferings, pangs that even yet chill my blood, steal over me, but
unconnected and incoherent, so that when, as I afterwards heard, the
herd dashed into the Camanche encampment, I have no recollection of
anything, except the terror-struck faces of the red men, as they bent
before me, and seemed to worship me as a deity. Yes, this terrible
tribe, who had scarcely ever been known to spare a white man, not
only did not injure, but they treated me with the tenderest care and
attention. A singular incident had favored me. One of the wise men had
foretold some days before that a herd of wild buffaloes, sent by their
god, Anadongu, would speedily appear, and rescue the tribe from the
horrors of impending starvation. The prediction was possibly based upon
some optical delusion, like that I have mentioned. Whatever its origin,
the accomplishment was hailed with ecstasy; and I myself, a poor, almost
dying creature, stained with blood, crushed and speechless, was regarded
as their deliverer and preserver.”
“How long did you remain amongst them?” cried Miss Kennyfeck.
“And how did you escape?” asked Olivia.
“Were they always equally kind?”
“Were you sorry to leave them?” were the questions rapidly poured in ere
Cashel could reply to any one of them.
“I have often heard,” said Miss Kennyfeck, “that the greater mental
ability of the white man is certain to secure him an ascendancy over the
minds of savage tribes, and that, if he be spared at first, he is sure
in the end to become their chief.”
“I believe they actually worship any display of intelligence above their
own,” said Olivia.
“These are exaggerated accounts,” said Cashel, smiling. “Marriage is,
among savage as among civilized nations, a great stepping-stone to
eminence. When a white man is allied with a princess--”
“Oh, how shocking!” cried both together. “I'm sure no person, anything
akin to a gentleman, could dream of such a thing,” said Miss Kennyfeck.
“It happens now and then, notwithstanding,” said Cashel, with a most
provoking gravity.
While the sisters would have been well pleased had Cashel's personal
revelations continued on this theme, they did not venture to explore so
dangerous a path, and were both silent. Roland, too, appeared buried
in some recollection of the past, for he rode on for some time without
speaking,--a preoccupation on his part which seemed in no wise agreeable
to his fair companions.
“There are the MacFarlines, Livy,” said Miss Kennyfeck; “and Linton, and
Lord Charles, and the rest of them. I declare, I believe they see us,
and are coming this way.”
“What a bore! Is there no means of escape? Mr. Cashel, pray invent one.”
“I beg pardon. What was it you said? I have been dreaming for the last
three minutes.”
“Pleasant dreams I 'm certain they were,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a
very significant smile; “evoked, doubtless, by some little memory of
your life among the Cainanches.”
Cashel started and grew red, while his astonishment rendered him
speechless.
“Here they come; how provoking!” exclaimed Livy.
“Who are coming?”
“Some friends of ours, who, strange to say, have the misfortune to
be peculiarly disagreeable to my sister Livy to-day, although I
have certainly seen Lord Charles contrive to make his company less
distasteful at other times.”
“Oh, my dear Caroline, you know perfectly well--” broke in Olivia, with
a tone of unfeigned reproach.
“Let us ride for it, then,” said Miss Kepnyfeck, without permitting her
to finish. “Now, Mr. Cashel, a canter,--a gallop, if you will.”
“Quite ready,” said Cashel, his animation at once returning at the bare
mention; and away they set, down a gentle slope with wooded sides, then
they gained another grassy plain, skirted with trees, at the end of
which a small picturesque cottage stood, the residence of a ranger;
passing this, they arrived at a thick wood, and then slackened their
pace, as all pursuit might be deemed fruitless. This portion of
the park, unlike the rest, seemed devoted to various experiments in
agriculture and gardening. Here were little enclosed plots of Indian
corn and Swedish turnips; here, small plantations of fruit trees. Each
succeeding secretary seemed to have left behind him some trace of his
own favorite system for the improvement of Ireland, and one might recall
the names of long-departed officials in little experimental specimens of
drainage, or fencing, or drill culture around. Less interested by these
patchwork devices, Cashel stood gazing on a beautiful white bull, who
grazed in a little paddock carefully fenced by a strong oak paling.
Although of a small breed, he was a perfect specimen of strength and
proportion, his massive and muscular neck and powerful loins contrasting
with the lanky and tendinous form of the wild animal of the prairies.
The girls had not remarked that Roland, beckoning to his servant,
despatched him at full speed on an errand, for each was loitering about,
amusing herself with some object of the scene.
“What has fascinated you yonder?” said Miss Kennyfeck, riding up to
where Roland still stood in wondering admiration at the noble animal.
“The handsomest bull I ever saw!” cried he, in all the ecstasy of a
'Torero;' “who ever beheld such a magnificent fellow? Mark the breadth
of his chest, and the immense fore-arm. See how he lashes his tail
about. No need of bandilleros to rouse your temper.”.
“Is there no danger of the creature springing over the paling?” said
Olivia, drawing closer to Cashel, and looking at him with a most
trustful dependence.
Alas for Roland's gallantry, he answered the words and not the glance
that accompanied them.
“No; he'd never think of it, if not excited to some excess of passion.
I 'd not answer for his patience, or our safety either, if really
provoked. See! is not that glorious?” This burst of enthusiasm was
called forth by the bull, seized with some sudden caprice, taking a
circuit of the paddock at full speed, his head now raised majestically
aloft, and now bent to the ground; he snatched some tufts of the grass
as he went, and flung them from him in wild sport.
“Bravo, toro!” cried Cashel, in all the excitement of delight and
admiration. “Viva el toro!” shouted he. “Not a 'Corrida' of the Old
World or the New ever saw a braver beast.”
Whether in compliance with his humor, or that she really caught up the
enthusiasm from Cashel, Miss Kennyfeck joined in all his admiration, and
seemed to watch the playful pranks of the great animal with delight.
“How you would enjoy a real 'toro machia!'” said Cashel, as he turned
towards her, and felt that she was far handsomer than he had ever
believed before. Indeed, the heightened color of exercise, and the
flashing brilliancy of her eyes, made her seem so without the additional
charm derived from sympathy with his humor.
“I should delight in it,” cried she, with enthusiasm. “Oh, if I could
but see one!”
Cashel drew nearer as she spoke, his dark and piercing eyes fixed with a
look of steadfast admiration, when in a low half-whisper he said, “Would
you really like it? Have these wild and desperate games an attraction
for you?”
“Oh, do not ask me,” said she, in the same low voice. “Why should I
confess a wish for that which never can be.”
“How can you say that? Have not far greater and less likely things
happened to almost all of us? Think of me, for instance. Travelling with
the Gambusinos a few months back, and now--now _your_ companion here.”
If there was not a great deal in the mere words themselves, there was
enough in the look of the speaker to make them deeply felt. How
much further Cashel might have adventured, and with what additional
speculations invested the future, is not for us to say; for just then
his groom rode up at speed, holding in his hands a great coil of rope,
to one end of which a small round ball of wood was fastened.
“What is that for, Mr. Cashel?” inquired both the girls together, as
they saw him adjust the coils lightly on his left arm, and poise the
ball in his right hand.
“Cannot you guess what it means?” said Roland, smiling. “Have you never
heard of a lasso?”
“A lasso!” exclaimed both in amazement “You surely could never intend--”
“You shall see,” cried he, as he made three or four casts with the rope
in the air, and caught up the loops again with astonishing dexterity.
“Now only promise me not to be afraid, nor, if possible, let a cry
escape, and I'll show you some rare sport Just take your places here;
the horses will stand perfectly quiet.” Without waiting for a reply,
he ordered the grooms to remain at either side of the young ladies, and
then dismounting, he forced open the lock and led his horse into the
paddock. This done, he leisurely closed the gate and mounted, every
motion being as free from haste and excitement as if made upon the
high-road. As for the bull, at the noise of the gate on its hinges, he
lifted up his head; but as it were indifferent to the cause, he resumed
his grazing attitude the moment after.
Cashel's first care seemed to be to reconnoitre the ground; for at
a slow walk he traversed the space in various directions, carefully
examining the footing and watching for any accidental circumstance
that might vary the surface. He then rode up to the paling, where in
unfeigned terror the two girls sat, silently following him in every
motion.
“Now, remember,” said he, smiling, “no fears, no terrors. If you were to
make me nervous, I should probably miss my cast, and the disgrace, not
to speak of anything else, would be dreadful.”
“Oh, we 'll behave very well,” said Miss Kennyfeck, trying to assume a
composure that her pale cheek and compressed lips very ill corroborated.
As for Olivia, too terrified for words, she merely looked at him, while
the tears rolled heavily down her cheeks.
“Now, to see if my hand has not forgot its cunning!” said Roland, as
he pressed his horse's flanks, and, pushing into a half-gallop, made
a circuit around the bull. The scene was a picturesque as well as
an exciting one. The mettlesome horse, on which the rider sat with
consummate ease; in his right hand the loose coils of the lasso, with
which to accustom his horse he flourished and shook around the head
and ears of the animal as he went; while, with head bent down, and
the strong neck slightly retracted, the bull seemed to watch him as he
passed, and at length, slowly turning, continued to fix his eyes
upon the daring intruder. Gradually narrowing his circle, Cashel was
cautiously approaching within a suitable distance for the cast, when the
bull, as it were losing patience, gave one short hoarse cry and made at
him, so sudden the spring, and so infuriate the action, that a scream
from both the sisters together showed how near the danger must have
appeared. Roland, however, had foreseen from the attitude of the beast
what was coming, and by a rapid wheel escaped the charge, and passed
close beside the creature's flank, unharmed. Twice or thrice the same
manouvre occurred with the same result; and although the horse was
terrified to that degree that his sides were one sheet of foam, the
control of the rider was perfect, and his every gesture bespoke ease and
confidence.
Suddenly the bull stopped, and retiring till his haunches-touched the
paling, he seemed surveying the field, and contemplating another
and more successful mode of attack. The concentrated passion of the
creature's attitude at this moment was very fine, as with red eyeballs
and frothed lips he stood, slowly and in heavy strokes lashing his
flanks with his long tail.
“Is he tired?” said Miss Kennyfeck, as Cashel stood close to the paling,
and breathed his horse, for what he foresaw might be a sharp encounter.
“No! far from it,” answered Roland; “the fellow has the cunning of an
old 'Corridor;' you 'll soon see him attack.”
The words were not well uttered, when, with a low deep roar, the bull
bounded forward, not in a straight line, however, but zigzagging from
left to right, and right to left, as if with the intention of pinning
the horseman into a corner. The terrific springs of the great beast, and
his still more terrific cries, appeared to paralyze the horse, who
stood; immovable, nor was it till the savage animal had approached
within a few yards of him, that at last he reared up straight, and then,
as if overcome by terror, dashed off at speed, the bull following.
The scene was now one of almost maddening excitement; for, although the
speed of the horse far exceeded that of his pursuer, the bull, by
taking a small circle, was rapidly gaining on him, and, before the third
circuit of the field was made, was actually almost side by side. Roland
saw all his danger; he knew well that the slightest swerve, a “single
mistake,” would be fatal; but he had been trained to peril, and this was
not the first time he had played for life and won. It was then, just
at the instant when the bull, narrowing his distance, was ready, by
one bound, to drive his horns into the horse's flank, that the youth
suddenly reined up, and throwing the horse nearly on his haunches,
suffered his pursuer to shoot ahead. The same instant, at least so it
seemed, he rose in his stirrups, and winding the rope three or four
times above his head, hurled it forth. Away went the floating coils
through the air, and with a sharp snap, they caught the animal's
fore-legs in their fast embrace. Maddened by the restraint, he plunged
forward, but ere he gained the ground, a dexterous pull of the lasso
jerked the legs backwards, and the huge beast fell floundering to the
earth. The stunning force seemed enough to have extinguished life, and
he lay, indeed, motionless for a few seconds, when, by a mighty effort,
he strove to burst his bonds. Roland, meanwhile, after a severe struggle
to induce his horse to approach, abandoned the effort, sprang to the
ground, and by three or four adroit turns of the lasso over the head and
between the horns, completely fettered him, and at each fresh struggle
passing new turns of the rope, he so bound him that the creature lay
panting and powerless, his quivering sides and distended nostrils
breathing the deep rage that possessed him.
“Ah, Mosquito mio,”--the Toridor's usual pet name for a young
bull,--“you were an easy victory after all, though I believe with a
little more practice of the game I should only get off second best.”
There was, if we must confess it, a certain little bit of boastfulness
in the speech, the truth being that the struggle, though brief, had
been a sharp one, and so Cashel's air and look bespoke it, as he led his
horse out of the paddock.
It would be a somewhat nice point--happily, it is not requisite to
decide it--whether Roland was more flattered by the enthusiastic praise
of the elder sister, or touched by the silent but eloquent look with
which Olivia received him.
“What a splendid sight, what a noble achievement!” said Miss Kennyfeck.
“How I thank you for thus giving me, as it were, a peep into Spain, and
letting me feel the glorious enthusiasm a deed of heroism can inspire!”
“Are you certain you are not hurt?” whispered Olivia; “the creature's
horns certainly grazed you. Oh dear! how terrible it was at one moment!”
“Are you going to leave him in his toils?” said Miss Kennyfeck.
“Oh, certainly,” replied Cashel, laughing; “I commit the pleasant office
of liberating him to other hands.” And so saying, he carelessly mounted
his horse, while they pressed him with a hundred questions and inquiries
about the late combat.
“I shall be amused to hear the reports that will be current to-morrow,”
said Miss Kennyfeck, “about this affair. I 'm certain the truth will
be the last to ooze out. My groom says that the creature belongs to the
Lord Lieutenant, and if so, there will be no end to the stories.”
Cashel did not seem as much impressed as the sisters expected at
this announcement, nor at all aware that he had been constructively
affronting the Vice-Majesty of the land, and so he chatted away in
pleasant indifference while they continued their ride towards home.