It was still very early. The generality of the inhabitants were not
yet up, and Winny sighed at the long sad day which was before her. She
had first made her father tell her how the ruffians had served him,
and after hearing the particulars she detailed everything which had
befallen herself. She described the battle at the bridge, as well as
her sobs would permit her, from the moment that Lennon sprang up from
behind the battlement to their rescue until the fatal arrival of the
police, as she called it, upon the approach of whom "that demon fired
his pistol at my poor Emon as close as I am to you, father."
"Well, well; Winny, don't lave the blame upon the police; he would
have fired at Lennon whether they cum up or not, for Emon never would
have let go his holt."
"True enough, father. I do not lay it upon them at all. Emon would
have clung to his horse for miles if he had not shot him down."
"Beside, Jamesy says the police has him fast enough. Isn't that a
mercy at all events, Winny?"
"It is only the mercy of revenge, father, God forgive me for the
thought. The law will call it justice."
"And a just revenge is all fair an' right, Winny. He had no pity on an
innocent boy, an' why should you have pity on a guilty villain?"
"Pity! No, father, I have no pity for him. But I wish I did not feel
so vengeful."
"But how did the police hear of it, Winny, or find out which way they
went; an' what brought Jamesy Doyle up with them?"
"We must ask Jamesy himself about that, father," she said; and she
desired Biddy to call him in, for he was with Bully-dhu.
Jamesy was soon in attendance again, and they made him sit down, for
with all his pluck he looked weary and fatigued. They then asked him
to tell everything, from the moment he first heard the men smashing
the door.
Jamesy Doyle's description of the whole thing was short and decisive,
told in his own graphic style, with many "begorras," in spite of
Winny's remonstrances.
"Begorra, Miss Winny, I tould Bully-dhu what they were up to, an' I
let him in at the hall doore, an' when I seen him tumble the
fust man he met, and stick in his windpipe without so much as a growl,
I knew there was one man wouldn't lave that easy, any way; an' I med
off for the polis as fast as my legs and feet could carry me."
"And how did--how--did--poor Emon hear of it?" sighed Winny.
"Arra blur-an-ages, Miss Winny, didn't I cut across by Shanvilla, an'
tould him every haporth? Why, miss, he'd murdher me af I let him lie
there dhramin', an' they carrin' you off, Miss Winny."
"Oh, Jamesy, why did you not go straight for the police, and never
mind Emon-a-knock?" she said.
"Ah! Winny dear," said her father, "remember that there was nearly
half-an-hour's battle at the bridge before the police came up; and had
your persecutor that half-hour's law, where and what would you be
now?"
"I did not care. I would have fought my battle alone against twenty
Tom Murdocks. They might have ill-used me, and then murdered me, but
what of that? Emon-a-knock would live, perhaps to avenge me; but
now--now--oh, father, father! I wish he had murdered me along with
Emon. But, God forgive me, indeed I am very sinful; I forgot you,
father dear. Here, Biddy, get the kettle boiling; we all want a cup of
tea;" and she put her handkerchief to her swimming eyes.
Jamesy had thrown himself in his clothes on some empty sacks in a
corner of the kitchen, saying, "Miss Winny, I'm tired enough to sleep
anywhere, an' I'll lie down here."
"Hadn't you better go to your own bed in the barn, Jamesy, where you
can take off your clothes? I am sure you would be more comfortable."
"No, Miss Winny, I'm sure I would not. Beside, the policeman tuck--"
Jamesy stopped himself. "What the mischief have I been saying?"
thought he.
"The policeman took what, Jamesy?" said Winny.
"He tuck the key, miss. He said no one should g'win there till he cum
back."
"Oh, very well, Jamesy; lie down, and let me throw this quilt over
you. But, God's mercy, if here is not a pool of blood! I wonder what
brought it here? Oh, am I doomed to sec nothing but blood--blood? What
is this, Jamesy, do you know?"
"I do, miss. It was Bully-dhu that cut one of the men when they cum
in; and no cure for him, Miss Winny!"
"Why, he must have cut him severely, James; the whole floor is covered
with blood."
"Cut him, is it? Begorra, Miss Winny, he kilt him out-an-out. I may as
well tell you the thruth at wanst."
"For heaven's sake, you do not mean to say that he actually killed
him, Jamesy?"
"That's just what I do mane. Miss Winny, an' I may as well tell you,
for Mr. Cotter will be here by-an-bye with the coroner and a jury to
hould an inquest. Isn't he lyin' there abroad in the barn as stiff as
a crowbar, an' as ugly as if he was bespoke, miss? Didn't I help Mr.
Cotter to carry him out, or rather to dhrag him? for begorra he was as
heavy as if he was made of lead!"
"Fie, fie, James, you should not talk that way of any poor
fellow-being--for shame!"
"An' a bad fellow-bein' he was, to cum here to carry you away. Miss
Winny, an' maybe to murdher you in the mountain, or maybe worse. My
blessin' on you, Bully-dhu!"
Winny was shocked at the cool manner in which Jamesy spoke of such a
frightful occurrence. She was afraid she would never make a Christian
of him.
Cotter and a comrade soon returned and took charge of the body until
the coroner should arrive. They had served summonses upon twelve or
fourteen of the most respectable neighbors--good men and true. They
had ascertained that the deceased was a man named John Fahy, from the
county of Cavan, a reputed Ribbonman. The cart had belonged to
him, but of course there was no name upon it. The news of the whole
affair had already spread like fire the moment the people began to get
about; and two brothers of Fahy's arrived to claim the body before the
inquest was over.
Jamesy Doyle was the principal witness "before the fact." His evidence
was like himself all over. Having been sworn by the coroner, he did
not think that sufficient, but began his statement with another oath
of his own--the reader knows by this time what it was. The coroner
checked him, and reminded him that he was already on his solemn oath,
and that light swearing of that kind was very unseemly, and could not
be permitted. He advised him to be cautions.
Jamesy had sense enough to take his advice, although he seldom took
Winny's upon the same subject.
"When first I heerd the _rookawn_ I got up, an' dhrew on my clothes,
an' cum round the corner of the house. I seen three men stannin' at
the doore, an' I heerd wan of 'em ordher it to be bruck in. I knew
there was but two women an' wan ould man, the masther, in the house,
an' I knew there was no use in goin' in to be murdhered, an' that I
could be of more use a great dale outside. Bully-dhu was roarin' like
a lion in the back yard, an' couldn't get out. I knew Bully was well
able for wan of 'em, any way, if not for two, an' I let him out an'
brought him to the hall-doore. The minit ever I let him out iv the
yard he was as silent as the grave, an' I knew what that meant. Well,
I brought him to the doore, an' pointed to the deceased, for he was
the first man I seen in from me. Well, without with your lave or by
your lave, Bully had him tumbled on the floore, an' his four big teeth
stuck in his windpipe. 'That'll do,' says I, 'as far as wan of ye
goes, any way;' an' I med off for the police. I wasn' much out about
Bully, your worship, for the man never left that antil Mr. Cotter an'
I helped him out into the barn."
Cotter was then examined. His evidence was "that he had found the
deceased lying dead on the kitchen floor; that the dog on entering lay
down at his head and put his paw upon his breast, as if pointing out
what he had done." That was all he knew about it.
The doctor was then examined--surgeon, perhaps, we should call him on
this occasion--and swore "that he had carefully examined the deceased;
that he had been choked; and that the wounds in the throat indicated
that they had been inflicted by the teeth of a large, powerful dog; no
cat nor other animal known in this country could have done it."
This closed the evidence. The coroner made a short charge to the jury,
and the verdict was "that the deceased, John Fahy, as they believed
him to be, had come by his death by being suffocated _and choked_ by a
large black dog called Bully-dhu, belonging to one Edward Cavana, of
Rathcash, in the parish, etc., etc.; but that inasmuch as he, the said
deceased, was in the act of committing a felony at the time, for
which, if convicted in a court of law, he would have forfeited his
life, they would not recommend the dog to be destroyed."
The coroner said "he thought this was a very elaborate verdict upon so
simple a case; and disagreed with the jury upon the latter part of the
verdict. The dog could not have known that, and it was evident he was
a ferocious animal, and he thought he ought to be destroyed."
"He did know it, your honor," vociferated Jamesy Doyle. "Didn't I tell
him, and wasn't it I pointed out the deceased to him, and tould him to
hould him? If it was th' ould masther or myself kilt him, you couldn't
say a haporth to aidher of us, let alone the dog."
If this was not logic for the coroner, it was for the jury, who
refused to change their verdict. But the tack to the verdict,
exonerating poor Bully-dhu, was almost unnecessary, where he had such
a friend in court as Jamesy Doyle; for he, anticipating some such
attempt, had provided for poor Bully's safety. His first act after
Cotter had left in the morning was to get a chum of his, who lived not
for off, to take the dog in his collar and strap to an uncle's son, a
first cousin of his, about seven miles away, to tell him what had
happened, and to take care of the dog until the thing "blew over," and
that "Miss Winny would never forget it to him."
Billy Brennan delivered the dog and the message safely; "he'd do more
nor that for Miss Winny;" or for that matter for the dog himself, for
they were great play-fellows in the dry grass of a summer's day. Now
it was a strange fact, and deserves to be recorded for the curious in
such things, that although Bully-dhu had never seen Jamesy's cousin in
his life, and that although he was a surly, distant dog to strangers,
he took up with young Barny Foley the moment he saw him. He never
stirred from his side, and did not appear inclined to leave the place.
Before the inquest had closed its proceedings the two brothers of the
deceased man adverted to had arrived to take away the dead body. It
was well for poor Bully-dhu, after all, that Jamesy had been so
thoughtful, although it was quite another source of danger he had
apprehended. The two Fahys searched high and low for the dog, one of
them armed secretly with a loaded pistol, but both openly with huge
crab-tree sticks to beat his brains out, in spite of coroner,
magistrate, police, or jury. But they searched in vain. They offered
Jamesy, not knowing the stuff he was made of, a pound-note "to show
them where the big black dog was." His answer, though mute, was just
like him. He put his left thumb to the tip of his nose, his right
thumb to the little finger of the left hand, and began to play the
bagpipes in the air with his fingers.
They pressed it upon him and he got vexed.
"Begorra," said be, "af ye cum here to-night after midnight to take
Miss Winny away, I'll show him to you, an' maybe it wouldn't be worth
the coroner's while to go home."
"He may stay where he is, for that matther," said one of the brothers.
"He'll have work enough tomorrow or next day at Shanvilla;" and they
turned away.
"Ay, and the hangman from the county of _Cavan_ will have something to
do soon afther," shouted Jamesy after them, who was never at a loss
for an answer. He had the last word here, and it was a sore one.
As the brothers Fahy failed in their search for Bully, they had
nothing further that they dare vent their grief and indignation upon.
It was no use in bemoaning the matter there amongst unsympathizing
strangers; so they fetched the cart to the barn-door and laid the
corpse into it, covering it with a white sheet which they had brought
for the purpose.
"Will I lind you a hand, boys?" said Jamesy, as they were struggling
with the weight of the dead man at the barn-door.
The scowl he got from one of the brothers would have discomfited a boy
less plucky or self-possessed than Jamesy Doyle; but he had not said
it in irony. No one there appeared inclined to give any help, and
Jamesy actually did get under the corpse, and "_helped_ him into the
cart," as he said himself.
The unfortunate men then left, walking one at each side of their dead
brother. And who is there, except perhaps Jamesy Doyle, who would not
pity them as they rumbled their melancholy way down the boreen to the
road?