'Oh! it's with pistols we fight,' replied Mr. Fagan. 'You are no
match for Quin with the sword.'

'I'll match any man with the sword,' said I.

'But swords are to-day impossible; Captain Quin is--is lame. He
knocked his knee against the swinging park-gate last night, as he
was riding home, and can scarce move it now.'

'Not against Castle Brady gate,' says I: 'that has been off the
hinges these ten years.' On which Fagan said it must have been some
other gate, and repeated what he had said to Mr. Quin and my
cousins, when, on alighting from our horses, we joined and saluted
those gentlemen.

'Oh yes! dead lame,' said Ulick, coming to shake me by the hand,
while Captain Quin took off his hat and turned extremely red. 'And
very lucky for you, Redmond my boy,' continued Ulick; 'you were a
dead man else; for he is a devil of a fellow--isn't he, Fagan?'

'A regular Turk,' answered Fagan; adding, 'I never yet knew the man
who stood to Captain Quin.'

'Hang the business!' said Ulick; 'I hate it. I'm ashamed of it. Say
you're sorry, Redmond: you can easily say that.'

'If the young FELLER will go to DUBLING, as proposed'--here
interposed Mr. Quin.

'I am NOT sorry--I'll NOT apologise--and I'll as soon go to DUBLING