The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 18, 1903, Page 13

SN e rd at these feats he horse, as who accepts a resident he southwest of Ireland res the prehistoric e a stable became inevi- throw & leg over him and you're weleome to e or two If you like. gray s & fine raking horse In har- eves ned ting eye the gray se flippancy something to Knox, Jooking at me with “Bring bim up his efforts to kick THE SUNDAY 'CALL. egs into a becoming D 1o me r my umbrella He had sfavor. bject Yi hrew my leg over the ter pacing gra round the the formed ard 1 @ ad nefther failen down t was worth paying £ P hi: if only to get in out of the rair Mr. Knox accompanied me Into the house and had a drink. He was a fair, spare ¥ man, who looked like a sta- ble boy T gentiemen and a gentle- man among s e boys. He belonged to cla that ed up in every grade of ciely in the county, from Sir Valentine ox of Knox Castle down to the auc- er Knox, who bore the attractive title of Larry the Liar. 8o far as I could e, Florence M arthy of that fik oe- a shifting position about midway tribe. 1 had met him at a dinner a Valentine's, I had heard of him at an ! tion, held by Larry the Liar. of brandy stolen from a wreck, They were “Black Protestants” all of them, In virtue of their descent from a godly soldler of Cromwell, and all were repared at any moment of the day or night to sell a horse “You'll be apt to find this place a bit hotel,” remarked Mr. ome & Flurry. sympathetically. as he placed his foot in | steaming boot on the h “but It's a fine, sound house, anyway, a lots of rooms in it, though! indeed, to tell you the truth. I mever was through the whole of them since the time my great-uncle, Dennis McCarthy, died here. ear knows 1 had enough of it that e e Davesd N3 N 8 dsett “Those top floors, now,” he resumed, “I wouldn’t make too free with them. There's some of them would jump under you like a spring bed. Many's the night 1 was in and out of those attics, following my poor uncle when he had a bad turn T CONNOR THE GAMEKEEPER on him—the horrors, y' know—there were nights he never stopped walking through the house. Good Lord! will 1 ever forget the morning he said he saw the devil coming up the avenue! - ‘Look at the two horns on him.' « he, a ¢ out with kis g 1 shot him, and, begad, it w his own donke The autumn evening. gray with rain was darkening in the tall windows, and the wind was beginning to make bully ing rushes among the shrubs in the area; a shower of soot rattled down the chim- ney and fell on the hearthrug More rain coming.” said Mr. Knox. rising composedly. ull have to put a goose down these chimmeys some day =oon; it's the ouly way in the world to clean them. Well, I'm for the road You'll cdme out on the gray next week, 1 hope; he hounds’ll be meeting here.” He threw extended a his cigarette inte the fire and hand to me. “Good-by, Major, you'll see plenty of me and my hounds before you're done. There's a power of foxes in the plantations here.” This was scarcely reassuring for a man who hoped to shoot woodcock, and I hinted as much, “Oh it the cock?’ said Mr. Flurry. “B'lecve me, the best shoots ever I had here the hounds were in it the day be- fore.” When Mr. Knox had gone T began to picture myself goIng across country roag- ing, while Philippa put the goose down the chimney; but when I sat down to write to her I did not feel equal to being humorous about it. I dilated ponderously on my cold, my hard work, and my -lone- lines: nd eventually went to bed at 10 o'ciock full of coid shivers and hot whisky and water. After a couple of hours of feverish doz- ing 1 began to understand what had driven Great-Uncle McCarthy to peram- bulate the house by night. I should have s#ald my couch was stuffed with old boots. 1 have seldom spent a more wretched right. The rain drummed with soft fin- gers on my window panes; the house was noises. | seemed to see Great- MeCarthy ranging the passages h Flurry-dt b heels; several times [ thought 1 heard him. Whispering seemed borne on the wind through my keyhole, boards creaked in the room overhead, and once 1 could have sworn that a hand passed, groping over the panels of my door The morning broke stormily, and T woke to find Mrs. Cadogan’'s understudy, a grimy nephew of about 18, standing by my bedslde with a black bottle in his hand. “There's no bath in the house, sir,” was his reply to my command; “but me a'nt sald, would ye like a taggeen This alternative proved to of raw whisky. 1 declined it ook back to that first week of house- keeping at Shreelane as to a’ comedy ex- cessively badly staged and striped with lurld melodrama. Dally. shrouded in mackintosh, I set forth for the Petty Ses- sions courts of my wide district; daily, in the inevitable atmosphere of wet frieze and perjury, I listened to indletments of old women who plucked geese alive, of publicans whose hospitality to their friends broke forth uncontrollably on Sunday afternoons, of “parties” who, in the language of the police sergeant, were subtly defined as *“not to say dhrunk, but in good fightin’ thrim.” 1 got used to it all in time—I suppose one can get used to anything—I even be- came callous to the surprises of Mrs, Cad- ogan's cooking. As the weather hard- ened and the woodcock came in, and one by one I discovered and nalled up rat- holes, 1 began to find Hfe endurable, The one feature of my establishment to which 1 could not hecome inured was the pervading sub-presence of =ome thing or things which for my own convenience [ summarized as Great-Uncle McCarthy. There were nights on which T was cer- tain that I heard the inebriate shuffle of his foot overhead, the touch of his fum- bling hand against the walls, There were be a glass dark times before the dawn when sounds went to and fro, the moving of weights, the creaking of doors, a far-away rapping in which was a workmanlike suggestion of the undertaker, a rumble of wheels on the avenue. In the process of time I brought Great- Uncle McCarthy down to a fine point. On Friday nights he made coffins and drove hearses; during the rest of the week he rarely did more than patter and shuffie in the attics over my head. One night, about the middle of Decem- ber, 1 awoke, suddenly aware that some noise had fallen like a heavy stone into my dreams. As T felt for the matches it came again, the long, grudging groan and the uncompromising bang of the cross door at the head. of the kitchen stalrs. I told myself that {t was a draught that had done it, but it was a perfectly still night. Even as I listened the sound of wheels on the avenue shook the stillness, In a few minutes I was stealthily groping my way down my own staircase, with a box of matches in my hand, and armed with a stick.I stood In the dark at the top of the back stairs and listened; the snores of Mrs. Cadogan and her nephew Peter rose tranquilly from thelr respective lairs. T descended to the kitchen and 1it a can- dle; there was nothing unusual there, ex- cept a great portion of the Cadogan wear- ing apparel, which was arranged at the fire and was being serenaded by two erickets It appeared to be my duty to inspect the yard. I put the candle on the table and went forth into the outer darkness. Not a sound was to be heard. The night was very colc nd so dark that I could scarcely distinguish the roofs of the sta- bles against the s the house loomed tall and oppressive above me: [ was con- sclous of how lonely it stood In the dumb and barren country., Something whirled out of the darkness above me and fell with a_flop on the ground, just at my feet. 1 jumped backward, in point of fact T made for the kitchen door, and, with my hand on the lateh, stood still and waited. Nothing further happened: the thing that lay there did not stir; I struck a match. The moment of tenslon turned to pathos as the light flickered on nothing more fateful than a dead crow, % Dead it certainly was. I could have told that without looking at it; but why should it, at some considerable period after its death, fall from the clouds at my feet? But did it fall from the clouds? 1 struck ano her match and stared up at the impenetrable face of the house. There was no hint of solution In the dark win- @ows, but I determined to go up and search the rooms that gave upon the yard. How cold it was! T can feel now the frozen, musty air of those attles, with their rat-eaten floors and wall papers furred with damp. I went softly from one to another, feeling like a burglar in my own house, and found nothing in elu- cidation of the mystery. The window were hermetically shut and sealed with cobwebs. There was no furniture except in the end room, where a wardrobe with- out doors stood in the corner, empty save for the solemn presence of a monstrous tall hat. I went back to bed cursing thoss powers of darkness that had got me out of it. My landlord had not fafled of his prom- ise to visit my coverts with his houn 1 met them all one r frosty ing. Flurry at their head, in his shabby pink coat and dingy breeches, the hounc eve trafling (dejectedly bdehind him and his haif-dozép companions. “What 'luck?’ I called out, drawing rein as I met them. *None,” sald Mr. Flurry briefly. He dld not stop, neither did he remove his pipe from his mouth; his eye at me was cold and sour. The other members of the hunt passed me with equal hauteur: [ thought they took their 11l luck very badly. On foot, among the last of the strag- gling hounds, cracking a carman’s whip and swearing comprehensively at them all, slouched my friend Slipper. Our friendship had begun in court, the rela- tive positlons of the dock and the judg- ment seat forming no obstacle to its progress. He was, as usual, a little drunk, and he hailed me as though I were a ship. “Ahoy, Major Yeates!" he shouted, bringing himseif up with a lurch against my cart; “it's hunting you should be, in place of sending poor divils to jall.” “‘But where are all the foxes?" said I. Begor, 1 don’t know no more than your honor. And Shreelane—that there used to be as many foxes in it as there's crosses in a yard of cheek! Well, well, I'll say nothin' for it, only that it's quare!” That frosty evening was followed by three others like unto it. and a fAight of woodcock came In. I dispatched invita- tions to shoot and dine on the following day to four of the local sportsmen, among whom was, of course, my landlord. T re- member that in my letter to the latter I expressed a facetious hope that my bag JTARTIN, ROJf (&) y N e BY 825 e L0 0008 _wf SrERvILLE & ~ QR u,g;» AND of cock would be more successful tham bhis of foxes had been The a to what as a vita invitations were not 1, without so much ed my in he hoped y liiing. that t ny hounds would troubl my cove: more. Here was war! I gazed in stupe- faction at the crooked scrawl in which my landlord had 1t It wholly and entir ed ponderings exasperating change of my friendly squireens t day was scarcely a hpany with my gamekee 2 gen tleman whose duties ma ted 1 limiting the poaching ges to his personal friends, and wh. might have been, Mr. wished me no bitterer punishment than hearing the unavalling shouts of “Mark cocki™ and seeing my birds wingtug (el way from the coverts far out of shot. Tim Connor and [ got ten between us it might have been t y neighbors had not boycotted me for what I could only suppose was the slackness of their hounds. 1 was dog-tired that night, and I slept the deep, satlable sleep I had earned. It was somewhere a that I was gradually awakene tinuous knocking fled call G never before g one ear from the tersper: bl 1 remembered that Peter had Kets sweep had promised to arrive tb ing, and to arrive ear and fury, I went to t and t desired t devil. It avalled me little mainder of the might I ¢ nd tHe I 2 at the do ] gan. At 6§ fallen into a troubled doze Cadogan ke at door and im parted the ation t1 e bad arrived “Well, for heaven's sake, 1ot tre chimneys and let me ariswered, goaded to 4 you may tell him from me tr s volce agaln I'll shoot him Subsequent events may be marized. At 7:20 I was awakened anew by a thunderous d in the ch and a brick crashed into the fireplace followed at a short interval by two jackdaws and their nests. At 3 I was formed by Peter that there was weter, and that he wished the devi would roast the same sweep. At 9 when I came down to breakfast, thers was no fire anywhere, and my made in the coach house, tasted of 1 put on an overcoat and opened r ters. About fourth or fifth teresting heap came one in an egregio disguised hand. Sir,” it began, “this is to inform you your unsportsmanlike conduct has been discovered. You have been suspected this good while of shooting the Shreelan foxes: it Is known now you do worse. Parties have seen your gamekeeper gol regular to meet the Saturday early tr at Salters Hill station, with your gray horse under a cart and your labels on the boxes, and we know as well as your agent in Cork what it s you have In those boxes. Be warned In time. Your Well- wisher.” I read this through twice before its drift became apparent, and I realized that T was accused of improving my shooting and my finances by the simple expedien of selling my foxes. That is to say, I was in a worse position than if I had stolen a horse or murdered Mrs. Cadogan, or got drunk three times a week in Skebawn. For a few moments I fell Into wild laughter, and then, aware that it was rather a bad business to let a lle of this kind get a start, I sat down to demol! the preposterous charge In a letter to rry Knox. Somehow, as I selected m sentences, it was borne In upon me that If the letter spoke the truth, eircumstan- tial evidence was rather against me. Mere lofty repudiation would be unavailing, and by my infernal facetio ss about t woodcock I had effectively filled in case against myself. At all events, t first thing to do was to have it out w! Tim Connor. I rang the bell. “Peter, is Tim Connor about the place™" *“He Is riot, sir. I heard him say he was going west the hll to mend the bounds ence.” Peter's face was covered his eyes wers red and he coughe stentat [he sweep's afte Ing « brushes within roem str”” he went orl above on the roof now, and he'd be thank ful to you to go up to him.” 1 followed him upstairs, climbed the rickety ladder, and squeezed through the rty trapdoor to the roof, and was fronted by the hideous face of the swee black agalnst the frosty blue He encamped w all bhis p phernalia the flat top of tha roof, and was goo. enough to rise and put pocket on my arrival ‘Good morning, Major. is pipe 1 That's a grand view you have up here,” sald the sweep He was evidently too well & to ta shop. I thraveled every roof in t counthry, and there ! e w get as handsome a prospect Theoretically he was right, hut T had not come up to the ro D ar and, demanded brutal for ‘me. cital of the special ger sweep the Shreelane chin that the sweep had In Infa up and down every one of th Uncle MecCarthy; of the three assi soot that by his pecullar skill he ha ing taken from the kitchen ney: of its present purity Ing such that it would “dhraw up a yo by G hy Grea » z cat with f.” Finally—realizing that I c re no more—he expl my bedroom chimney had g alled wynd™ {n It, and h b down a little wa ‘would he get to come at The sweep was very very large. I stipulated have a rope round his wal the illegality, I jet him go. Ha like a monkey, digging his toes an into the niches made for the p the old chimney: Peter held lit a cigarette and waited Certainly the view from the roof mall was worth coming up to look at. I turned survey with an owner's eye my ow gray woods and straggling plantations of larch, and espled a man comin ut of the western wood. He had some his back and he was wa rabbit poacher, no doubt. As h out of sight into th beginning to run. At t saw on the hill beyond 2 boun arfes half a dozen horsemen scrambling by zigzag ways down toward the wood There was one red coat among them; it came first at the gap In the fence that Tim Connor had gone out to mend, with the others was lost to sight In t covert, from which, in another Instant, came clearly through t frosty alr a and Continued on Page Fourteen