Winny and Kate had agreed to take a long walk after mass on the day in
question. This was not a mere trick of Winny's to get rid of Tom
Murdock. Certainly they had not agreed that it should be "their lone;"
this was as chance might have it; and it was a gratuitous addition of
Winny's, as calculated to attain her object; and we have seen how
promptly she succeeded.
The day was fine, and they now wandered along the road, so engaged in
chat that they scarcely knew how far they were from home. They had
turned down a cross-road before they came to Shanvilla, the little
village where Emon-a-knock lived. Kate would have gone on straight,
but Winny could not be induced to do so. Kate had her own reasons for
wishing to go on, while Winny had hers for being determined not; so
they turned down the road to their left, intending, as they had
Bully-dhu with them, to come home through the mountain-pass by
Boher-na-milthiogue. They had chat enough for the whole road. Prayers
had been over early, although it was second mass; and the country
people generally dine later on a holiday than usual. It gives the boys
and girls more time to meet and chat and part, and in some instances
to make new acquaintances. But whether it had been agreed upon or not,
Winny and Kate appeared likely to have their walk alone upon this
occasion; and as neither of them could choose their company, they were
not sorry to find the road they had chosen less frequented than the
one they had left. Bully-dhu scampered through the fields at each side
of them, and sometimes on a long distance in front, occasionally
running back to a turn to see if they were coming.
They were now beyond two miles from home, and two-and-a-half more
would have completed the circle they had intended to take; but they
were destined to return by the same way they came, and in no
comfortable or happy plight.
They were descending a gentle hill when, at some distance below them,
they perceived a number of young men engaged playing at what they call
"long bullets." They would instinctively have turned back, not
wishing, unattended as they were except by Bully-dhu, to run the
gauntlet of so many young men upon the roadside, most of whom must be
strangers; but the said Bully-dhu had been enjoying himself
considerably in advance, and they called and called to no purpose.
They could not whistle; and if Bully heard them call, he did not heed
them. He had seen a large brindled mastiff coming toward him from the
crowd with his back up, and a growl of defiance which he could not
mistake. Bully was no coward at any time; but on this occasion his
courage was more than manifest, being, as he considered, in sole
charge of his mistress and her friend. He was not certain but his
antagonist's attack might be directed as much against them as against
himself; and he stood upon the defensive, with his back up also, the
hairs of which, from behind his ears to the butt of his tail, bristled
"like quills upon the fretful porcupine." An encounter was now
inevitable. The mastiff had shown a determination that nothing but a
death-struggle should be the result, and rushed with open mouth and a
roar of confident superiority upon his weaker rival. It was no
even match; nothing but poor Bully-dhu's indomitable courage and
activity could enable him to stand a single combat with his antagonist
for five minutes. The first snarling and growling on both sides had
now subsided, and they were "locked in each other's arms" in a silent
rolling struggle for life or death. A dog-fight of even the most minor
description has charms for a crowd of youngsters; and of course the
"long bullets" were left to take care of themselves, and all the
players, as well as the spectators, now ran up the road to witness
this contest, which was, indeed, far from a minor concern. Poor Winny
had screamed when she saw her dog first rolled by so furious and, as
she saw at once, so superior a foe. She would have rushed forward but
that Kate restrained her, as both dangerous and useless. She therefore
threw herself against the bank of the ditch by the roadside,
continuing to call out "for God's sake for somebody to save her poor
dog. Was there no person there who knew her, and would save him?"
The crowd had by this time formed a ring round the infuriated animals.
Some there were who would have been obedient to Winny's call for help;
but the case at present admitted of no relief. Notwithstanding poor
Bully-dhu's pluck and courage, he had still the worst of it; in fact,
his was altogether a battle of defence, while that of the mastiff was
one of ferocious attack. He had seized Bully in the first instance at
an advantage by the side of the neck under the ear, meeting his teeth
through the skin, while the blood flowed freely from the wound,
coloring the mud of the road a dark crimson round where they fought,
and nearly choking the mastiff himself, as he was occasionally rolled
under in the strife. Now they were upon their hind-legs again,
wrestling like two stout boys for a fall; now Bully was down, and the
mastiff rolled his head from side to side, tightening his grip, while
the bloody froth besmeared himself and his victim, as he might now
almost be called.
Some men at this point, more humane than the rest, took hold of the
mastiff by the tail, while others struck him on the nose with a stick.
They might as well have struck the rocks love Slieve-dhu or
Slieve-bawn. The mastiff was determined upon death, and death he
seemed likely to have. His master was there, and seemed anxious to
separate them. He even permitted him to be struck on the nose,
claiming the privilege only of choosing the thickness of the stick.
"He's loosening, boys!" said one fellow; "he's tired of that hoult,
an' can do no more with it; stan' back, boys, an' give the black dog
fair play, he's not bet yet; he never got a grip iv th' other dog yet;
give him fair play, boys, an' he'll do good business yet. There!
Tiger's out iv him now, and the black dog has him; be gorra, he's a
game dog any way, boys! I dunna who owns him." This man seemed to be
an "expert" in dog-fighting. Tiger had got tired of the hold he had
had, and, considering a fresh grip would be better, not by any means
influenced by the blows he had received on the nose, had given way;
believing, I do suppose, that he had already so mastered his
antagonist, that he could seize him again at pleasure. But he had
reckoned without his host. Bully-dhu took advantage of the relief to
turn on him, and seized him pretty much in the same way he had been
seized himself, and with quite as much ferocity and determination. Hie
fight did not now seem so unequal; they had grip for grip, and there
was a general cry amongst the crowd to let them see it out. Indeed,
there appeared to be no alternative, for they had both resisted every
exertion to separate them.
"It's no use, boys," said the expert; "you might cut them in pieces,
an' they wouldn't quit, except to get a better hoult; if you want to
part them, hold them by the tails, an' watch for the loosening
of wan or th' other, an' then drag them away."
"Stan' back, boys," said another. "The black dog's not bet yet; stan'
back, I say!"
Bully-dhu had made a great rally of it. It was now evident that he
would have made a much better fight from the first, if he had not been
seized at an advantage which prevented him from turning his head to
seize his foe in return. They had been by this time nearly twenty
minutes in deadly conflict; and the mastiff's superior strength and
size began now to tell fearfully against poor Bully-dhu. He had shaken
himself completely out of Bully, and made a fresh grip, not far from
the first, but still nearer the throat. The matter seemed now coming
to a close, and the result no longer doubtful. Every one saw that if
something could not be done to disengage Tiger from that last grip,
the black dog must speedily be killed.
Here Winny, who heard the verdict from the crowd, could be restrained
no longer, and rushed forward praying for some one, for them all, to
try and save her dog. They all declared it was a pity; that he was a
grand dog, but no match for the mastiff. Some recommended one thing,
some another. Tiger was squeezed, and struck on the nose; a stick was
forced into his mouth, with a hope of opening his teeth and loosening
his hold; but it was all useless, and poor Winny gave up all for lost,
in a fit of sobbing and despair.
Here a man, who had not originally been of the party, was seen running
at full speed down the hill. It was Emon-a-knock, who at this juncture
had come accidentally upon the top of the hill immediately above them,
and at once recognizing _some_ of the party on the road, rushed
forward to the rescue. He cast but a glance at the dogs. He knew them
_both_, and how utterly hopeless a contest it must be for Bully-dhu.
Like an arrow from a bow, he flew to a cabin hard by, and seizing a
half-lighted sod of turf from the fire, he returned to the scene.
"Now, boys," he cried, "hold them fast by the tails and hind-legs, and
I'll soon separate them." Two men seized them--Tiger's own master was
one. Although there were many young men there who would have looked on
with savage pleasure at an even fight between two well-matched dogs,
even to the death, there was not one who could wish to stand by and
see a noble dog killed without a chance by a superior foe, and they
all hailed Emon-a-knock, from his confident and decisive manner, as a
timely deliverer. The dogs having been drawn by two strong men to
their full length, but still fastened by the deadly grip of the
mastiff on Bully-dhu's throat, Emon blew the coal, and applied it to
Tiger's jaw. This was too much for him. He could understand squeezes,
and even blows on the nose and head, or perhaps in the excitement he
never felt them; but the lighted coal he could not stand, and yielding
at once to the pain, he let go his hold. The dogs were then dragged
away to a distance; Emon-a-knock carrying poor Bully-dhu in his arms,
more dead than alive, to where Winny sat distracted on the roadside.
"O Emon! he's dead or dying!' she cried, as the exhausted animal lay
gasping by her side.
"He's neither!" almost roared Emon; "have you a fippenny-bit, Winny,
or Kate? if I had one myself, I wouldn't ask you."
"Yes, yes," exclaimed Winny, taking an old bead-purse from her pocket,
and giving him one. She knew not what it was for, but her confidence
in Emon's judgment was unbounded, and her heart felt some relief when
it was not a needle and thread he asked for.
"Here," said Emon to a gossoon, who stood looking at the dog, "be off
like a hare to Biddy Muldoon's for a naggin of whiskey, and you may
have the change for yourself, if you're back in less than no time;
make her put it in a bottle, not a cup, that you may run the
whole way without spilling it."
The boy started off, not very unlike--either in pace or
appearance--to the animal he was desired to resemble, for he had a cap
made of one of their skins.
Emon-a-knock, although a very steady, temperate young man, was not
altogether so much above his compeers in the district as not to know
"where a dhrop was kept," which, to the uninitiated (English, of
course), means a sheebeen house. Perhaps, _to them_, I am only
explaining one thing by another which equally requires explanation.
During the interval of the boy's absence, Emon-a-knock was examining
the wounds in poor Bully-dhu's neck and throat. The dog still lay
gasping, and occasionally scrubbling with his fore-legs, and kicking
with his hind, while Winny reiterated her belief that he was dying.
Emon now contradicted her rather flatly. He knew she would excuse the
rudeness from the hope which it held forth.
"There will be nothing on him to signify indeed, Winny, after a
little," he said kindly, feeling that he had been harsh but a moment
before; "see, he is not even torn; only cut in four places."
"In four places! O Emon, in four?"
"Yes; but they are only where the other dog's teeth entered, and came
through; see, they are only holes; the dog is quite exhausted, but
will soon come round. Come here, Winny, and feel him yourself."
Winny stretched over, and Emon took her hand to guide it to the spots
where her poor dog had been wounded. Poor Bully looked up at her, and
feebly endeavored to wag his tail, and Winny smiled and wept together.
Emon was a very long time explaining to her precisely where the wounds
were, and how they must have been inflicted; and he found it necessary
to hold her hand the whole time. Whether Winny, in the confusion of
her grief, knew that he did so, nobody but herself can tell. Three or
four persons who knew Winny had kindly come up to see how the dog was,
and the expert amongst them, with so much confidence that he was going
to set him on his legs at once. But Emon had taken special charge of
him, and would not suffer so premature an experiment, nor the
interference of any other doctor.
But here comes the gossoon with the whiskey, like a hare indeed,
across the fields, and his middle finger stuck in the neck of the
bottle by way of a cork.
Emon took it from him, and claiming the assistance of the expert, whom
he had just now repudiated, for a few moments to hold his head, he
placed the neck of the bottle in Bully-dhu's mouth. He poured "the
least taste in life" down his throat, and with his hand washed his
jaws and tongue copiously with the spirits.
With a sort of yelp poor Bully made a struggle and a plunge, and rose
to his feet. Winny held out her hand to him, and he staggered over
toward her, looking up in her face, and wagging his tail.
"I told you so," said Emon; "get me a handful of salt."
The same cabin which had supplied the "live coal" was applied to by
the gossoon (who kept the change), and it was quickly brought.
Emon then rubbed some into the wounds, in spite of Winny's
remonstrances as to the pain, and the dog's own unequivocal objections
to the process.
Matters were now really on the mend. Bully-dhu shook himself, looking
after the crowd with a growl; and even Winny had no doubt that Emon's
prescriptions had been necessary and successful.
"The sooner you get home now with him, Winny, the better," said Emon.
"You are not going to leave us, Emon?" said Winny, doubtingly.
"Certainly not," he replied; "the poor dog is still very weak, and may
require rest, if not help, by the way." He then took a red cotton
handkerchief from his pocket, and tying it loosely round the dog's
neck, he held the other end of it in his hand, and they all set out
together for Rathcash.
The handkerchief, Emon said, would both keep the air from the wounds,
and help to sustain the dog on his legs. But he may have had some idea
in his mind that it would also serve as an excuse for his accompanying
them to the very furthest point possible on their road home.