seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more and more,
and the night poured down darker and darker, the snow and the sleet
thicker and more blinding. "Lord have mercy upon us!" said Bagg.

Myself. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg got home alive.

John. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the fling he got
was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling trick. But
with respect to the storm which rose up just in time to save the fellow,
he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something Irish and
supernatural.

Myself. I dare say he's right. I have read of witchcraft in the Bible.

John. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he says
that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he could
master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. He says that a
hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for he wishes
to take an inn at Swanton Morley, keep a cock-pit, and live respectably.

Myself. He is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling brother, for I
must go back through the bog to Templemore.

* * * * *

'Is it a long time since you have seen any of these Gwyddeliaid [Irish]?'

'About two months, sir, and then a terrible fright they caused me.'

'How was that?'