THE DEAD HEAT 121 



or lose, everyone must say that we have behaved 

 pluckily in this matter." 



Such a crowd as there was on the road all the 

 way to the hill of Thonabuckey, where a good view 

 could be had of the race ! Cars, donkey-carts, wiry- 

 looking horses with wiry and sporting squireens on 

 them crowded the road — all on their way to see the 

 thousand-guinea steeple-chase between the English 

 soldier gentleman and the famous Captain O'Eooney. 



Such excitement, such running and jostling of 

 the dirty unwashed to get along ! There was the 

 old blind fiddler, Mat Doolan, in a donkey-cart, and 

 perched on the top of a porter-barrel, scraping away, 

 and occasionally giving a song. 



" Sure it's himself that can bring the music out 

 of the instrument. He is the best fiddler in the 

 west," sang out one. Then a chorus of voices would 

 break in asking for various tunes and songs. 

 " Arrah, now, give us ' Croppies lie down.' " 

 " ' Wreath the bowl,' " cried another. " Hell to the 

 bowl, let's 'ave ' Tater, Jack Walsh,' or ' Vinegar 

 Hill,' " demanded a sturdy ruffian. " No, no ; ' The 

 breeze that blows the barley,' ' St Patrick's day in 

 the morning,' or ' Garry-owen' for me." " Begorra, 

 no ; ' Larry before he was stretched,' is my favour- 

 ite," said a ragged urchin. 



" Hurrah ! here comes the Captain," bawled 



