Part 7 (2/2)
”I'd like a dhrap now,” continued the speaker, casting a covetous glance towards the wickered jar; ”mightily I wud that same; but the dimmyjan is too near bein' empty, an the young masther might miss it. Besides, it wudn't be raal honest av me to take it widout lave--wud it, Tara?”
The dog again raised his head above the ashes, and sneezed as before.
”Why, that was _yis_, the last time ye spoke! Div yez mane is for the same now? Till me, Tara!”
Once more the hound gave utterance to the sound--that appeared to be caused either by a slight touch of influenza, or the ashes having entered his nostrils.
”'Yis' again? In trath that's just fwhat the dumb crayther manes!
Don't timpt me, ye owld thief! No--no; I won't touch the whisky. I'll only draw the cork out av the dimmyjan, an take a smell at it. Shure the masther won't know anything about that; an if he did, he wudn't mind it! Smellin' kyant do the pothyeen any harm.”
During the concluding portion of this utterance, the speaker had forsaken his seat, and approached the corner where stood the jar.
Notwithstanding the professed innocence of his intent, there was a stealthiness about his movements, that seemed to argue either a want of confidence in his own integrity, or in his power to resist temptation.
He stood for a short while listening--his eyes turned towards the open doorway; and then, taking up the demijohn, he drew out the stopper, and held the neck to his nose.
For some seconds he remained in this att.i.tude: giving out no other sign than an occasional ”sniff,” similar to that uttered by the hound, and which he had been fain to interpret as an affirmative answer to his interrogatory. It expressed the enjoyment he was deriving from the _bouquet_ of the potent spirit.
But this only satisfied him for a very short time; and gradually the bottom of the jar was seen going upwards, while the reverse end descended in like ratio in the direction of his protruding lips.
”Be j.a.pers!” he exclaimed, once more glancing stealthily towards the door, ”flesh and blood cudn't stand the smell av that bewtiful whisky, widout tastin' it. Trath! I'll chance it--jist the smallest thrifle to wet the tap av my tongue. Maybe it'll burn the skin av it; but no matther--here goes!”
Without further ado the neck of the demijohn was brought in contact with his lips; but instead of the ”smallest thrifle” to wet the top of his tongue, the ”gluck--gluck” of the escaping fluid told that he was administering a copious saturation to the whole lining of his larynx, and something more.
After half a dozen ”smacks” of the mouth, with other exclamations denoting supreme satisfaction, he hastily restored the stopper; returned the demijohn to its place; and glided back to his seat upon the stool.
”Tara, ye owld thief!” said he, addressing himself once more to his canine companion, ”it was you that timpted me! No matther, man: the masther 'll niver miss it; besides, he's goin' soon to the Fort, an can lay in a fresh supply.”
For a time the pilferer remained silent; either reflecting on the act he had committed, or enjoying the effects which the ”potheen” had produced upon his spirits.
His silence was of short duration; and was terminated by a soliloquy.
”I wondher,” muttered he, ”fwhat makes Masther Maurice so anxious to get back to the Sittlements. He says he'll go wheniver he catches that spotty mustang he has seen lately. Sowl! isn't he bad afther that baste! I suppose it must be somethin' beyant the common--the more be token, as he has chased the crayther three times widout bein' able to throw his rope over it--an mounted on the blood-bay, too. He sez he won't give it up, till he gets howlt of it. Trath! I hope it'll be grupped soon, or wez may stay here till the marnin' av doomsday. Hus.h.!.+
fwhat's that?”
Tara springing up from his couch of skin, and rus.h.i.+ng out with a low growl, had caused the exclamation.
”Phelim!” hailed a voice from the outside. ”Phelim!”
”It's the masther,” muttered Phelim, as he jumped from his stool, and followed the dog through the doorway.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE SPOTTED MUSTANG.
<script>