Read Ebook: The Snake's Pass by Stoker Bram

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Ebook has 1138 lines and 59808 words, and 23 pages

"Ah! yer 'an'r wouldn't be that hard! What harrum has the poor crathur done that ye'd hate her--a thing no mortial man iver done yit?"

"Oh, go on! don't bother me any more; I think it's about time we were getting home. You go down to the sheebeen and rattle up that old corncrake of yours; I'll come down presently and see how the work goes on."

He went off, but came back as usual; I could have thrown something at him.

"Take me advice, surr--pay a visit to Shleenanaher, an' see Miss Norah!" and he hurried down the hill.

His going did me no good; no one came, and after a lingering glance around, and noting the gathering of the rain clouds, I descended the hill.

When I got up on the car I was not at all in a talkative humour, and said but little to the group surrounding me. I heard Andy account for it to them:--

"Whisht! don't notice his 'an'r's silence! It's stupid wid shmokin' he is. He lit no less nor siventeen cigars this blissed day. Ax the neighbours av ye doubt me. Gee up!"

The evening was spent with Dick as the last had been. I knew that he had seen his girl; he knew that I had not seen mine, but neither had anything to tell. Before parting he told me that he expected to shortly finish his work at Knockcalltecrore, and asked me if I would come over.

"Do come," he said, when I expressed a doubt. "Do come, I may want a witness," so I promised to go.

Andy had on his best suit, and a clean wash, when he met us smiling in the early morning, "Look at him," I said, "wouldn't you know he was going to meet his best girl?"

"Begor," he answered, "mayhap we'll all do that same!"

It was only ten o'clock when we arrived at Knockcalltecrore, and went up the boreen to Murdock's new farm. The Gombeen Man was standing at the gate with his watch in his hand. When we came up, he said:--

"I feared you would be late. It's just conthract time now. Hadn't ye betther say good-bye to your frind an' git to work?" He was so transparently inclined to be rude, and possibly to pick a quarrel, that I whispered a warning to Dick. To my great satisfaction he whispered back:--

"I see he wants to quarrel; nothing in the world will make me lose temper to-day." Then he took out his pocket-book, searched for and found a folded paper; opening this he read: "'and the said Richard Sutherland shall be at liberty to make use of such assistant as he may choose or appoint whensoever he may wish during the said engagement at his own expense.' You see, Mr. Murdock, I am quite within the four walls of the agreement, and exercise my right. I now tell you formally that Mr. Arthur Severn has kindly undertaken to assist me for to-day." Murdock glared at him for a minute, and then opened the gate and said:--

"Come in, gintlemin." We entered.

"Now, Mr. Murdoch!" said Dick, briskly, "what do you wish done to-day? Shall we make further examination of the bog where the iron indication is, or shall we finish the survey of the rest of the land?"

"Finish the rough survey!"

The operation was much less complicated than when we had examined the bog. We simply "quartered" the land, as the Constabulary say when they make search for hidden arms; and taking it bit by bit, passed the magnet over its surface. We had the usual finds of nails, horseshoes, and scrap iron, but no result of importance. The last place we examined was the house. It was a much better built and more roomy structure than the one he had left. It was not, however, like the other, built on a rock, but in a sheltered hollow. Dick pointed out this to me, and remarked:--

"I don't know but that Joyce is better off, all told, in the exchange. I wouldn't care myself to live in a house built in a place like this, and directly in the track of the bog."

"Not even," said I, "if Norah was living in it too?"

"Ah, that's another thing! With Norah I'd take my chance and live in the bog itself, if I could get no other place."

When this happened, our day's work was nearly done, and very soon we took our leave for the evening, Murdock saying, as I thought rather offensively:--

"Now, you, sir, be sure to be here in time on Monday morning."

"All right!" said Dick, nonchalantly; and we passed out. In the boreen, he said to me:--

"Let us stroll up this way, Art," and we walked up the hill towards Joyce's house, Murdock coming down to his gate and looking at us. When we came to Joyce's gate, we stopped. There was no sign of Norah; but Joyce himself stood at his door. I was opening the gate when he came forward.

"I remember well," he said; "and I was thankful to you, for I was in trouble that night--it's all done now." And he looked round the land with a sneer, and then he looked yearningly towards his old farm.

"I ask yer pardon, sir. An' I don't wish to be rude--but I don't want to know him. He's no frind to me and mine!"

Dick's honest, manly face grew red with shame. I thought he was going to say something angrily, so cut in as quickly as I could:--

"You are sadly mistaken, Mr. Joyce; Dick Sutherland is too good a gentleman to do wrong to you or any man. How can you think such a thing?"

"A man what consorts wid me enemy can be no frind of mine!"

"But he doesn't consort with him; he hates him. He was simply engaged to make certain investigations for him as a scientific man. Why, I don't suppose you yourself hate Murdock more than Dick does."

"Thin I ax yer pardon, sir," said Joyce. "I like to wrong no man, an' I'm glad to be set right."

Things were going admirably, and we were all beginning to feel at ease, when we saw Andy approach. I groaned in spirit--Andy was gradually taking shape to me as an evil genius. He approached, and making his best bow, said:--

"Fine evenin', Misther Joyce. I hope yer arrum is betther--an' how is Miss Norah?"

"Thank ye kindly, Andy; both me arm and the girl's well."

"Is she widin?"

"No! she wint this mornin' to stay over Monday in the convent. Poor girl! she's broken-hearted, lavin' her home and gettin' settled here. I med the changin' as light for her as I could--but weemin takes things to heart more nor min does, an' that's bad enough, God knows!"

"Thrue for ye," said Andy. "This gintleman here, Masther Art, says he hasn't seen her since the night she met us below in the dark."

"I hope," said Joyce, "you'll look in and see us, if you're in these parts, sir, whin she comes back. I know she thought a dale of your kindness to me that night."

"I'll be here for some days, and I'll certainly come, if I may."

"And I hope I may come, too, Mr. Joyce," said Dick, "now that you know me."

"Ye'll be welkim, sir."

We all shook hands, coming away; but as we turned to go home, at the gate we had a surprise. There, in the boreen, stood Murdock--livid with fury. He attacked Dick with a tirade of the utmost virulence. He called him every name he could lay his tongue to--traitor, liar, thief, and indeed exhausted the whole terminology of abuse, and accused him of stealing his secrets and of betraying his trust. Dick bore the ordeal splendidly; he never turned a hair, but calmly went on smoking his cigar. When Murdock had somewhat exhausted himself and stopped, he said calmly:--

"My good fellow, now that your ill-manners are exhausted, perhaps you will tell me what it is all about?"

Whereupon Murdock opened again the vials of his wrath. This time he dragged us all into it--I had been brought in as a spy, to help in betraying him, and Joyce had suborned him to the act of treachery. For myself I fired up at once, and would have struck him, only that Dick laid his hand on me, and in a whisper cautioned me to desist.

"Easy, old man--easy! Don't spoil a good position. What does it matter what a man like that can say? Give him rope enough! we'll have our turn in time, don't fear!"

I held back, but unfortunately Joyce pressed forwards. He had his say pretty plainly.

"What do ye mane, ye ill-tongued scoundhrel, comin' here to make a quarrel? Why don't ye shtay on the land you have robbed from me, and lave us alone? I am not like these gintlemen here, that can afford to hould their tongues and despise ye--I'm a man like yerself, though I hope I'm not the wolf that ye are--fattenin' on the blood of the poor! How dare you say I suborned any one--me that never told a lie, or done a dirty thing in me life? I tell you, Murtagh Murdock, I put my mark upon ye once--I see it now comin' up white through the red of yer passion! Don't provoke me further, or I'll put another mark on ye that ye'll carry to yer grave!"

No one said a word more. Murdock moved off and entered his own house; Dick and I said "good night" to Joyce again, and went down the boreen.

MY NEW PROPERTY.

The following week was a time to me of absolute bitterness. I went each day to Knocknacar, where the cutting was proceeding at a rapid rate. I haunted the hill-top, but without the slightest result. Dick had walked over with me on Sunday, and had been rejoiced at the progress made; he said that if all went well we could about Friday next actually cut into the bog. Already there was a distinct infiltration through the cutting, and we discussed the best means to achieve the last few feet of the work so as not in any way to endanger the safety of the men working.

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