DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 217 



surprise on the faces of the knot of fishers who had 

 been told by Pat we were after trout. 



The steep ascent of half-a-mile to the cross roads 

 made conversation easy, so when Pat told us that 

 he feared the lough was low and bright I explained 

 to him that we wanted a boat to take us sea-fishing. 



" Is that so, yer honours? Thin it's meself that 

 will soon have ye on the say, and it's a big boat 

 ye'll need to hould thim, and it's a sight we'll show 

 the throuters this same noight." 



Then he relieved himself of some of his energy 

 by whipping up his mare and saying : ''It's Brian 

 O'Malley I'll be wanting if ye'll stir yer bones that 

 ate more corn for yer paces than ye desarve. Ye'll 

 be knowing who's driving if I live to the cross roads. 

 Is it meself then that's wid ye or no ? " 



To divert Pat's thoughts from the mare and whip 

 I asked him if he knew what pollack were. 



" Is it the fish yer honour manes ?" said he, and, 

 on learning that it was, he told us with quite a 

 solemn face : "It's the say that's full av thim and 

 it's Brian O'Malley that will tell you that same for 

 thruth. Now then be off wid ye," and a jerk of the 

 reins as we turned the corner at the hill-top started 

 the mare into a leg-stretching trot that moved the 

 car in such handsome fashion as satisfied the driver 

 who, pleased, stroked his mare quite kindly with 

 the whip while saying : " Now, Kitty, ye'll be 

 showing the gentlemen that it's meself that's 

 dhriving ye, and begorra it's a load of fish ye'll be 

 bringing when yer head is turned for home this 

 same noight if we get Brian O'Malley in the boat ; 

 but where will I be finding the bhoy ? The divil 

 take him if he's away for turf." 



