"We'll buy that fellow of you before we let you go," said Peter, the
youngest son.

"I advise you to look sharp after your money if you sell him to my
brother," said Jack.

And then we trotted slowly off to Castle Conor, which, however, was
by no means near to us. "We have ten miles to go;--good Irish
miles," said the father. "I don't know that I ever remember a fox
from Poulnaroe taking that line before."

"He wasn't a Poulnaroe fox," said Peter.

"I don't know that;" said Jack; and then they debated that question
hotly.

Our horses were very tired, and it was late before we reached Mr.
O'Conor's house. That getting home from hunting with a thoroughly
weary animal, who has no longer sympathy or example to carry him on,
is very tedious work. In the present instance I had company with me;
but when a man is alone, when his horse toes at every ten steps, when
the night is dark and the rain pouring, and there are yet eight miles
of road to be conquered,--at such time a man is almost apt to swear
that he will give up hunting.

At last we were in the Castle Conor stable yard;--for we had
approached the house by some back way; and as we entered the house by
a door leading through a wilderness of back passages, Mr. O'Conor
said out loud, "Now, boys, remember I sit down to dinner in twenty