The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 52, 30 December 1925, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By Charles J. Kickham.) : ||

CHAPTER VIII. Rody Flynn Visits his Garden George Ponsonby and his White Greyhound Constable Finucane-and Sub-Constable Joe Sproule of the Gurthna'boher Station. ;: .'~. Rody Flynn, having taken- a look at Father Feehan's gardenand particularly admiring the peas and the_ "early-york," which was getting white alreadythought that, as he had left his,work at all he might as well have a look at his Own "garden" also. Rody's "garden" was a miniature farm of four Irish acres, a half-mile or so from the village. Here was a strip of pasture,- a strip of meadow, a narrow strip of turnips, a wide one of .wheat, which looked promising, and one of equal width of potatoes, which, Rody observed, with that sparkle of the eyes and. raising of the brows which we have before noticed, were beginning to peep over the ground. All were enclosed by a good quickset fence, on the mossy sides of which primroses grew by the million. The white-thorns in the farthest corner from the road Rody "never knew to be without a blackbird's nest," a thing which he believed could not be said of any other "piece of a ditch" of equal length in Ireland, except that one in the Queen's County, where two pair of blackbirds' built every year as "regular as the sun." A happy man was Rody Flynn as he walked along the headland, looking at his wheat and potatoes, and turnips and meadow — unmindful of the primroses and the hawthorn blossoms, which promised to be abundant this year—till he came to the strip of pasture. Then the sparkle in Rody Flynn's eyes was dimmed, and the laugh faded from his round chubby face. He turned from the headland and walked to the middle of the strip of green pasture where a little brown cow was quietly grazing, and kept from trespassing upon the meadow and the tilled portion of the field by means of a light chain and a long iron pin driven into the ground. The little brown cow raised her head and turned her mild eyes upon Rody Flynn, and Rody, standing close to her, looked into, the little brown cow's meek face for a minute or two without moving. Then patting her upon the shoulder — least little gleam of the old merry laugh returning to his eyes, as she playfully thrust her black horn under his arm (just as if she wanted to tickle him) —Rody moved on towards the gate, picking up two stones on the way and flinging them over the fence upon the road. Rody Flynn told his melancholy friend, Davy Lacy, one evening in strict confidence that he could never bear to look on while Julia was milking the little brown cow, as it always gave him a "swelling in the heart"—thinking of her'mother. And he had known a very decent man who died of a swelling in the heart in the Queen's County. V " ~ '.-•-;; v "I'll give him to Mr. Armstrong. I'll give Rover to Mr. Amby. Who else has a better

m ana .m bh ■aa■ i ■ at j l e >•■*•' : i ,as For the Old Land A TALE OF FIFTY YEARS AGO. - :

right to him? And even if he sends him to ' Tom Dwyer, I have no objection, except that he might let him run apace through that '■■;■■ stony place above Corrigdhoun. That's the ;: only objection I have to Rover's being sent to the mountain; I can't keep him any longer '". myself. Perrington threatened to shoot him; but I'll snare rabbits in spite of his teeth l: .-' He can't prevent that, and let him do his best. I have snares set now where he little suspects. But I'll make a present of Rover -'- to Mr. Armstrong." * r ;?-^ During the delivery of this abrupt address : the merry look came back into Rody Flynn's face, and his black eyes sparkled as he fixed % them on the speaker, who looked all round while he spoke, as if these remarks were addressed to the hills and the trees, and the sheep and cattle in the fields, and once or twice to the little brown cow — never to Rody, whose eyebrows rose higher and higher as the speech went on, till at length he laughed outright, and looked into the orator's face. "You think I ought to shave off this," he i went on, grasping his long black beard and combing it with his thin delicate fingers. ...: "Well, you see, shaving is a great trouble; and Mrs. Perrington says the beard is picturesque. She wouldn't shoot Rover or stop me from snaring rabbits. And she likes this too," he added, raising a hareskin cap. from his matted jet-black locks, and holding it at arm's length before him, but seemingly I unable to keep his' large brown eyes fixed '-■'- on that or any other object for more than a second. ; ; "Yes," he continued, replacing the hareskin cap on his head, and looking at the torn sleeve of his old green shooting jacket, which, it was evident, originally belonged to same slender and not very tall stripling. "I■ know I'm in a queer state," and the large/ brown eyes wandered immediately from the ■ green coat sleeve to the grey tweed trousors, which were equally dilapidated, and as much too short for his long legs as were the coat k sleeves for his attenuated arms.' ''Bat"—-;; and now his gaze took up the whole horizon —"but I'll come out in flying colors when . I come in fcr my property. I'll buy a white ' pony then for Mrs. Perrngton. "Why wouldn't I?" he exclaimed, looking directly for the fcrst time at Rody Flynn, as if he r ■> had protest? 1 against the white ponv _ "She was always my friend. Didn't she'send for ,me long ago after she came home from Lon- ) don, and said I was the handsomest boy 6he--ever saw? That was before she married % Perrington. I'm sorry she ever married him ; v for only for my father dying without making a will, and I lost my property, I'd have proposed for her myself." j,Here he put a whistle, that hung suspended by a cord round his neck, to his lips and blew a long clear ' note. In an instant a ; beautiful snow-white greyhound sprang lightly over the fence and stood beside him. "Now, I'll let you see -

, ; what a spring there is in him," he went on. "Come down here to the gate." He waved |" big hand towards the wooden gate of Rody field, and the white greyhound in- - stantly flew over it. Then the long slender hand was waved the other way, and the greyhound flew "back again. This was repeated half-a-dozen times, to the infinite delight of Rody Flynn, and the evident astonishment of the little brown cow, who -raised her head high and gazed wildly at the snow-white hound, as he sprang grace- : fully backwards and forwards over the wooden gate. ; " "He's a. beautiful animal, George," said Rody Flynn, delightedly. "I never saw a "handsomer greyhound." -"I know," interrupted poor crazed George Ponsonby, "the one in the Queen's County. 1~/ I wish I could get one look at that dog in f ' the Queen's County. But look at this, J Rody." And he pulled up the leg of his ' 'tattered trousers, and pushed down his stocking, exhibiting his skin, with the remark, - uttered as if to himself, his wandering eyes' resting for a moment on the limb —"'Tis small, but 'tis straight." "I told you before what to do to that," said Rody Flynn. "And if you don't do it you'll have a sore leg that maybe 'twont be easy to heal. Cold water several times a day, that's the best thing for it." George Ponsonby let the trousers drop over his skin, but did not mind pulling up tke stocking, and, seeming to forget all about it, blew his whistle and walked away, followed v by the beautiful white greyhound. George Ponsonby's leg reminded Rody that one of his patients, for whom he Teit great sympathy, was probably in his - ; workshop at that moment. He had just . quickened his pace lest the patient might go away under the impression that he had gone r some distance from home, and the poor fel- ' low's hand was in so bad a state, and the ; walk from the mountain was so long, it wouldn't do to disappoint him, Rody thought —when three long-legged, wild-looking, pigs rushed past him at full gallop. Turning round he saw two policemen running breathlessly after the pigs, greatly encumbered by 7 their rifles. There was a shallow pool of mud at the turn of the road, a hundred yards ■1 or so further on, into which the three wild y~ pigs plunged, and commenced rooting with ; all their might. ■, %-: : . - "For heaven's sake, as they have stopped ;; at last, 'let us take a little rest." said Actv ing-Constable Finucane—who was a slenderv waisted and military-looking young man, o with well-oiled hair and whiskers —just as they ; bad come up with Rody Flynn. "I wouldn't take a five-pound note to go through the same hardships again," returned IL Sub-Constable Joe .Sproule, letting himself fall on his back against the slanting fence of ;7 Rody Flynn's field, crushing numberless primly roses, .and pushing his head under the hawr -thorns on the top, feeling the coolness plea- ;•; sant to his heated face. ; "Who is that strange-looking fellow, with the white greyhound we have just passed?" Mr. -Finucane asked, looking ruefully down "upon his mud-bespattered uniform. ;■■ "Ye can't be long in this part of the conn-

try," replied Rody Flynn, "or ye'd know Ponsonby." - : . " "We're only a few weeks in this county',", the military-looking acting-constable answered, taking a showy handkerchief from the breast of his jacket, and wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "We belong to the Gurthnaboher station. But who or what is he?" "He's a poor harmless fellow that's going about," Rody Flynn replied. "His mind is not right. His grandfather was a Protestant clergyman; but Lis mother made a foolish marriage. Both she and her husband died, and poor George was someway not right in his mind, and is going about from one place to another — to-day and there to-mor-row —just like a poor fellow —another gentleman's son—l know in the Queen's County." . "I knew he was a gentleman," said the subconstable, who held a branch of the whitethorn, under which his head was thrust, between his teeth. "The first look I gave at him I knew he was a gentleman." "It must be hard for a gentleman to disguise himself," said Rody Flynn, raising his eyebrows and laughing, as he turned round expecting to catch a glimpse of the scarecrow figure in the tattered green shooting jacket going up Ballykiraun hill. But another tall figure, in whitish cord knee breeches and long-tailed blue body coat, caught his eye near the next turn of the road. It was Sammy Sloane's clever rival, Murty Magrath, who, no doubt, had been out on business that morning like Sammy himself—to soothe in some measure his irritation at the turn affairs had taken in regard to the election of a fit and proper person to represent the county in the Imperial Parliament of Great Britain and Ireland. Chapter IX.Murty Magrath and the Two Policemen Glenmoynan Pigs— Rural Policeman's Paradise, as Pictured in Sub-Constable Joe Sproule's Youthful Dreams The Reality as He has Found it. Murty Magrath, who had been loitering at the turn of the road, as soon as he saw that he was observed, moved on at an ordinary walking pace, and bade Rody Flynn and the policemen the time of the day very civilly, passing the forefinger of his right hand, while he spoke, all round his unusually long neck, inside the high white cracat which covered the long neck up to the ears, and seemed to press uncomfortably upon his windpipe. "What 1 o'clock might it be?" Murty asked in the most innocent and natural way imaginable, as if the question had been suggested by the watch-key, which the military-looking acting-constable managed to display below his belt. "A quarter to two," the acting-constable replied, having with much trouble got his Geneva watch from the fob of his tight-fit-ting trousers. . "Good God!" exclaimed Joe Sproule, getting his head from under the hedge, and staring in amazement at his superior offiecr, "you said it was only eleven when we had the misfortune to meet these three devils. How far is it from the cross. beyond the second hill?" he asked, turning to Rody Flynn. "It

seems we took two hour* and thro-%uart«rs to come from that." s ' A -^ " 'Tis about three miles," was the reply.. "Ye must walk mighty slow." ;;■_ '•.-"-'■ , "Walk said Joe Sproule, getting upon" his legs with a groan, like a- man- very bad | with the rheumatism. "The, devil a walk) 'twas all funning and tumbling. I never; saw the like of it," continued the sub-con-stable solemnly, as he buttoned up his jacket. "That black pig must"have an 'open: Sesame,' for d—— the gate along the whole way that didn't fly open the minute he pointed his nose at it." Rody Flynn chuckled; but Murty Magrath passed his finger between his white cravat and his windpipe, and looked innocently unconscious, as he asked; Rody Flynn "Was he coming home." "I am," said Rody, stepping out to keep up with the policeman, with whom he seeemd disposed to be companionable. The three lean pigs with an abrupt grunt rushed out of the pool of mud, and stood in line across the road, as if determined to defend the pass against all comers. Joe Sproule' fell back a step, and clutching his rifle dropped upon one knee and "prepared for cavalry," without waiting for the word of command from his superior officer. ".■ "Begob, it is dangerous," muttered Murty Magrath, thrusting all his four fingers between his cravat and his windpipe. "Let us non-combatants stand aside." "Hush-h-h!" said Joe Sproule, advancing cautiously for a yard or two. But the three lean pigs stood firm, with their snouts pointed to the enemy. . ' " "I'll show 'em the cold steel," said Joe Sproule, drawing his sword, but never for a second removing bis % eye from the three pigs. The flash of the cold steel had the-desired effect, for the three lean pigs wheeled round with another abrupt grunt and scampered off in the way they should go. "They're Glenmoynan pigs," Murty Magrath remarked, as the party moved on again. "They seem to breed for speed and endurance in Glenmoynan. Look at the limbs of the black fellow; did you ever see such bone and muscle ? Not an ounce of idle flesh. 'Tis quite different down here. The trouble you'd have here," Murty Magrath observed feelingly, turning to the militarylooking acting-constable, who was showing symptoms of feebleness about the knees—- " The trouble you'd have down here is to make them walk at all. There's a very gentlemanly herd of pigs about Shannaclough," added Murty Magrath impressively, turning to Rody Flynn, as if for corroboration of the assertion. •"Well, there's a great change both in pigs and people in regard of walking," said Rody Flynn. "I remember when every man and every pig walked to the fair of Cloughbeg, as' a matter of course. Now both man an' pig must drive—even comin' into our own little market." r ; "Yes," returned. Murty Magrath, "you won't find a more gentlemanly herd of pigs in Ireland. They take the world easy, and are always contented so long as their bellies are full. But if you put the Glenmoynan pigs in a coach they wouldn't be satisfied." "Did, you see that!" exclaimed Sub-Con-J

|l|^ stable Joseph Sproule in amazement. "Isn't yjj:it just as I said"—"open Sesame?" ' T " "Go, turn 'em back," said Acting-Con- | stable Finucane,faintly. *t.\: "That's an intelligent fellow," Murty Magvath remarked, when Joe Sproule had star- :-. ■''',"*s& off to drive the three lean pigs out of a £f'-ploughed field, the gate of which had yielded

to a push' of the black one's nose. "He read Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. The police are nearly all reading men now, and as a consequence are more wide-awake and up to everything, and capable of performing their duties. The police are a most useful and intelligent body of men." (To be continued.)