The first recreation in this countheree,
The King’s counthry gintlemen o’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Blackthorn looked sedately2 amiable3 as Tom led him up to the hall door next morning, and I felt as I looked at him that I might safely trust him to initiate4 me into the mysteries of cross-country riding in the county Cork5.
The day was lovely—sunny and mild, with a lingering dampness in the air that told of light rain during the night. I{134} settled myself in the saddle, intoxicated6 by the idea that I was actually going out hunting for the first time, though I could not help a tremor7 of anxiety as I wondered if Willy would find his confidence in me had been misplaced.
I could hear him now in the hall, knocking down umbrellas and sticks in search of his whip, and presently, in response to his shouts, old Roche came shuffling8 to his aid.
“I was putting up your sandwiches, sir,” he said.
“Go on, and give hers to Miss Theo, and hurry,” said Willy’s voice, in a tone indicative of exasperation9.
Roche bustled10 out on to the steps with a small packet in his hand, a jovial11 smile on his face. He looked at me, and his face changed.
“My God! ’tis Master Owen himself!” he said, as if involuntarily. “I beg your{135} pardon, miss,” he continued, coming down the steps and putting the sandwiches into the saddle-pocket. “I suppose ’twas the man’s hat, and the sight of you up on the horse, made me think of the young master, as we called your father.”
Willy, at all times a carefully attired12 person, was to-day absolutely resplendent in his red coat and buckskins, and as we rode slowly down the avenue, I was impelled13 to tell him how smart both he and the mare14 looked. He beamed upon me with a simple satisfaction.
“Do you think so? Well, now, do you know what I was thinking? That no matter how good-looking a girl is, she always looks fifty per cent. better on a horse.”
“That is a most ingenious way of praising your own horse,” I said.
“Ah now, you know what I mean quite{136} well,” rejoined Willy, with a look which was intended to be sentimental15, but, by reason of his irrepressibly good spirits, rather fell away into a grin.
The meet was to be at the Clashmore cross-roads, and we passed many people on their way there. White-flannel-coated country boys and young men—“going for the best places to head the fox,” as Willy observed with bitterness, and little chattering16 swarms17 of national-school children. Every now and then a young farmer or two came clattering18 along, on rough, short-necked horses, whose heavy tails swung from side to side as they trotted20 at full speed past us, and an occasional red coat gave a reality to the fact that I was going out fox-hunting. The cross-roads were now in sight, and I saw a number of riders and people who had driven to see the meet, waiting for the hounds to come up.{137}
“Why, I declare, here are the two Miss Burkes coming along in that old shandrydan of theirs with the bedridden grey pony21!” said Willy, looking back. “Hold on, Theo. I must introduce you to them; they’re great specimens22.”
We allowed the pony-carriage to overtake us, and Willy, pulling off his hat with as fine a flourish as his gold hatguard would allow, asked leave to introduce me.
“With the greatest of pleasure, Willy. Indeed, we’d no idea till yesterday, when we met Doctor Kelly in town, that Miss Sorsefield had arrived.” This from the elder Miss Burke, a large, gaunt lady with a good-humoured red face and an enormous Roman nose, and a curiously23 deep voice, whose varying inflections ran up and down the vocal24 scale in booming cadences25.{138}
“You ought to be riding the pony, Miss Burke. She looks in great form.”
“Oh, now, Willy! you’re always joking me about poor old Zoé. You’re very naughty about him. Isn’t he, Bessy?”
The younger Miss Burke, thus appealed to, replied with a genteel simper, “Reely, Mimi, I’m quite ashamed of the way you and the captain go on. Don’t ask me to interfere26 with your nonsense. We hope, Miss Sarsfield”—turning a face that was a pale dull replica27 of her sister’s towards me—“to have the pleasure of calling upon you very soon. But oh, my gracious! there are the dogs and Mr. Dennehy coming! And look at us keeping you delaying here! Good-bye, Miss Sarsfield. I hope you’ll obtain a fox.”
At the cross-roads we found the master of the Moycullen hunt, a big, wild-looking man with a long reddish-grey beard and{139} moustache, seated on an ugly yellow horse with a black stripe, like a donkey’s, down his back.
“How do you do, Mr. Dennehy?” said Willy, as we rode up. “Nice day. This is my cousin, Miss Sarsfield. I hope you’ll show her some sport. Morning, Nugent. How are you, Miss Connie? Do you see the new mount I have?” and Willy forgot his duties as my chaperon, in a lively conversation with Miss O’Neill.
Mr. Dennehy, with what was, I believe, unwonted condescension28, began to speak to me.
“I’m delighted to see you out, Miss Sarsfield,” he said in a slow, solemn brogue. “I hope we’ll have a good day for you, and if there’s a fox in Clashmore at all, these little hounds of mine will have him out.”
I did not know much about hounds, but even to inexperienced eyes these appeared{140} to be a very motley collection. Mr. Dennehy saw me look with interest at two strange little animals, somewhat resembling long-legged black-and-tan terriers.
“Well, Miss Sarsfield, those are the two best hounds I have, though they’re ugly creatures enough. And there’s a good hound. Loo, Solomon, good hound! That’s a hound will only spake to game.”
Here Mr. Dennehy produced a battered29 little horn, and with two or three bleats30 upon it to collect his hounds, he put the yellow horse at a yawning black ditch that divided the road from a narrow strip of rough ground, perpendicularly31 from which rose a steep hill covered with laurels32. The yellow horse took the ditch and the low stone wall on its farther side with unassuming skill, and he and Mr. Dennehy were presently lost to sight in the wood.
Willy now came up to me with Miss{141} O’Neill and her brother, and I was introduced to the former, a small, fair-haired girl in a smart habit, with brown eyes and rather a high colour. She nodded to me with cheery indifference33, and continued her conversation with Willy, leaving me to talk to her brother.
This I found to be a somewhat difficult task. His manner was exceedingly polite, but he appeared to be engrossed34 in watching the covert35, and we finally relapsed into silence. At intervals36 Mr. Dennehy’s red coat showed between the low close-growing trees as he led his horse through the covert, and we could hear his original method of encouraging his hounds.
“Thatsy me darlins! Thatsy-atsy-atsy! Turrn him out, Woodbine! Hi, Waurior, good hound!”
I felt inclined to laugh, but as no one else seemed amused, I refrained and waited{142} for further developments. Presently, with a few words to Willy, Mr. O’Neill put spurs to his big bay and galloped37 off. In a moment or two, Miss O’Neill, without further ceremony, followed her brother to the other end of the covert, and Willy and I remained with about twenty other riders on the road.
“See here!” he said in low, excited tones. “You keep close to me. Old Dennehy’s got a beastly trick of slipping away with his hounds directly they find, and making fools of the whole field, leaving them the wrong side of the covert. But I think we’re in a good place here. Whisht! wasn’t that a hound speaking? Come on this way.”
We set off down the road helter-skelter after Mr. O’Neill and Connie, but were stopped by an excited rush of country boys with shouts of, “He’s gone aisht! H{143}e’s broke the far side!” and at the same instant Mr. and Miss O’Neill came pounding down a ride out of the covert.
“It’s just as I thought; Dennehy’s gone away with the hounds by himself,” called out Mr. O’Neill. “A country fellow saw the fox heading for Lick, and Dennehy all alone with the hounds, going like mad!”
“It’s all right, Nugent,” said Connie. “I know a way over the hill lower down.”
“Don’t mind her, Theo,” said Willy in my ear; “just you stick to me.”
We had galloped past the eastern bound of the wood, and as he spoke39 he turned his horse and jumped the fence on the right of the road. Blackthorn followed of his own accord, and I found that an Irish bank did not feel as difficult as it looked.
Willy turned in his saddle to watch me.{144}
“Well done! that’s your sort,” he shouted. “Hold him now, and hit him! This is a big place we’re coming to.”
We were over before I had time to think, and to my horror I saw that Willy was making for a hill that looked like the side of a house, covered with furze.
“There’s a way up here, but you’ll have to lead. Nip off! I’ll go first.”
I was fearfully out of breath, but Willy allowed no time for delay. Up the hill we scrambled40, Blackthorn leading me considerably41 more than I led him. After the first few seconds of climbing, I felt as if it would be impossible to go on. My habit hindered me at every step. Blackthorn’s jerks and tugs42 at the reins43 nearly threw me on my face, and the fear of Willy alone prevented me from letting him finish the ascent44 by himself. When at last we reached the top, Willy and I were both so much out of{145} breath that we could not speak, and I wished for nothing so much as to lie down. But Willy, with a blazing face, made signs to me to mount at once, and, jerking me into the saddle, we again set off.
The top of the hill which we had now gained was rough, boggy45 ground. Down to our right lay the gleaming laurel covert, and in front of us the hill sloped gradually down into a low tract47 of bog46 and lakes, with hills beyond. We could see nothing of any one, but a countryman, on the top of a bank above the wood, waved semaphore-like directions that the hounds were running to the north-east.
“Hullo! here’s Nugent,” said Willy, in a not over-pleased voice, and as he spoke I saw Mr. O’Neill’s bay horse coming along over the hill. He soon overtook us, looking, I was glad to see, as heated and dishevelled as Willy and I.{146}
“I knew that way of Connie’s was no use, so I came back and went up the hill after you. Where are the hounds?”
“Going north-east, a fellow told me. But look! By Jove! there they are on the hill across the bog, and going straight for Killnavoodhee.”
“There is only one way to pick them up,” said Nugent, with what seemed to me unnatural48 calm—“we must cross the bog.”
“But, my dear fellow, I don’t believe there’s a way across, and once we got in, we’d not get out in a hurry.”
“Do you mind trying, Miss Sarsfield?” demanded Mr. O’Neill.
“Whatever Willy likes,” I said.
“Oh, all right,” said Willy. “Fire away, but you’ll have to pay for the funeral, Nugent.”
We had now reached the foot of the hill, and we rode rapidly along the verge{147} of the bog for a short distance till we came to where an old fence traversed it in a north-easterly direction.
“Here’s the place. If we can get along the top of this, we shall just hit off their line,” Mr. O’Neill said. He went first, and the horses picked their way along the top of the bank like cats, though the sides crumbled49 under their feet, and sometimes the whole structure tottered50 as if it were going to collapse52 into the deep dykes53 on either side. At last it broke sharp off, at a pool of black mire54. Our guide dismounted and jumped down into the bog, pulling his horse after him, and we slowly dragged our way through the heavy ground to the farther side of the bog.
Here we were confronted by the most formidable obstacle we had yet come to. It consisted of a low, soft-looking bank, with an immense boggy ditch beyond it.{148}
“We’ve got to try it, I suppose,” said Willy, “but it’s a thundering big jump, and there’s a deuced bad landing beyond the water.”
He and Mr. O’Neill remounted, and the former put his horse at the place. The bay’s hoofs55 sank deep in the bank, but he took a spring that landed him safely on the opposite side on comparatively firm ground. My turn came next.
“Whip him over it!” exclaimed Willy.
I did so as well as I was able, but the treacherous56 ground broke under Blackthorn’s feet, and he all but floundered back into the ditch as he landed.
“Oh, Willy!” I cried, “I’m afraid you’ll never get her over now that the bank is broken.”
But Willy was already too much occupied with Alaska to make any reply. She refused several times, but finally, yielding to{149} the inevitable57, she threw herself rather than jumped off the bank, and the next moment she and Willy were in the ditch.
I was terrified as to the consequences, and was much relieved when I saw Willy, black from head to foot, crawl from the mare’s back on to the more solid mud of the bank on our side. Without a word he caught Alaska by the head, and began to try and pull her out. His extraordinary appearance, and the fact that he was much too angry to be in the least conscious of its absurdity58, had the disastrous59 effect of reducing both Mr. O’Neill and me to helpless laughter.
“I am very sorry, Willy,” I panted, “and I am delighted you’re not hurt; but if you could only see yourself!”
Willy silently continued his efforts.
“Oh, Mr. O’Neill, do get down and help him,” I continued.{150}
“I don’t want any help, thank you,” returned my cousin, with restrained fury. “Come up out of that, you brute60!”—applying his hunting-crop with vigour61 to the recumbent Alaska, who thereupon, with two or three violent efforts, heaved herself out of the slough62. All this time Mr. O’Neill had been grinning with that unfeigned delight which all hunting-men seem to derive63 from the misfortunes of their friends.
“You have toned down that new coat, Willy,” he remarked; “and I must say the little mare takes to water like an otter51.”
“Oh, I dare say it’s very funny indeed!” retorted Willy, leading Alaska on to the higher ground where we were standing64; “but if you’d an eye in your head you’d see the mare is dead lame65.”
“By George! so she is. That’s hard{151} luck. She must have given herself a strain.”
“Well, whatever ails19 her, there’s no use in your standing there looking at me,” replied Willy. “I can get home all right. I don’t want Theo to lose the run, and you’ll head them yet if you put on the pace.”
His magnanimity was almost more crushing than his wrath66. I was filled with contrition67 for my heartless amusement, and begged to be allowed to stay with him. But I was given no voice in the matter; my offer was scouted68, and before I had fairly grasped the situation, I was galloping69 up a narrow mountain road after Nugent O’Neill.
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1
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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4
initiate
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| vt.开始，创始，发动；启蒙，使入门；引入 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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7
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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8
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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9
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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16
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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replica
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| n.复制品 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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bleats
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的第三人称单数 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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perpendicularly
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| adv. 垂直地, 笔直地, 纵向地 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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37
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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38
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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40
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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41
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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42
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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43
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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44
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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47
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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48
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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49
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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50
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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51
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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52
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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53
dykes
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| abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 )；坝；堰；沟 | |
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54
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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55
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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56
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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57
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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60
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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61
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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62
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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63
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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64
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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65
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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66
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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67
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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68
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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69
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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