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"
He
's
playin
'
us
a
thrick
,
Tara
.
He
wants
to
give
you
an
me
a
surproise
.
He
wants
to
have
a
joke
agaynst
us
!
"
Sowl
!
but
it
's
quare
anyhow
.
It
looks
as
if
he
had
no
head
.
In
faix
does
it
!
Ach
!
what
cyan
it
mane
?
Be
the
Howly
Virgin
!
it
's
enough
to
frighten
wan
,
av
they
did
n't
know
it
was
the
masther
!
"
Is
it
the
masther
?
Be
the
powers
,
it
's
too
short
for
him
!
The
head
?
Saint
Patrick
presarve
us
,
whare
is
it
?
It
cya
n't
be
smothered
up
in
the
blankyet
?
Thare
's
no
shape
thare
!
Be
Jaysus
,
thare
's
somethin'
wrong
!
What
does
it
mane
,
Tara
?
"
The
tone
of
the
speaker
had
again
undergone
a
change
.
It
was
now
close
bordering
upon
terror
--
as
was
also
the
expression
of
his
countenance
.
The
look
and
attitude
of
the
staghound
were
not
very
different
.
He
stood
a
little
in
advance
--
half
cowering
,
half
inclined
to
spring
forward
--
with
eyes
glaring
wildly
,
while
fixed
upon
the
approaching
horseman
--
now
scarce
two
hundred
yards
from
the
spot
!
As
Phelim
put
the
question
that
terminated
his
last
soliloquy
,
the
hound
gave
out
a
lugubrious
howl
,
that
seemed
intended
for
an
answer
.
Then
,
as
if
urged
by
some
canine
instinct
,
he
bounded
off
towards
the
strange
object
,
which
puzzled
his
human
companion
,
and
was
equally
puzzling
him
.
Rushing
straight
on
,
he
gave
utterance
to
a
series
of
shrill
yelps
;
far
different
from
the
soft
sonorous
baying
,
with
which
he
was
accustomed
to
welcome
the
coming
home
of
the
mustanger
If
Phelim
was
surprised
at
what
he
had
already
seen
,
he
was
still
further
astonished
by
what
now
appeared
to
him
.
As
the
dog
drew
near
,
still
yelping
as
he
ran
,
the
blood-bay
--
which
the
ex-groom
had
long
before
identified
as
his
master
's
horse
--
turned
sharply
round
,
and
commenced
galloping
back
across
the
plain
!
