MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE 141 



One evening, about six weeks after our arrival at 

 Aunaghmore, we were lying on the cliffs, watching 

 the trawlers as they drifted slowly up with the tide. 

 The day had been dark and misty, with some 

 thunder far out at sea ; but it cleared up as the 

 sun went down, and I was pointing out to Dick, 

 who had been unusually silent, the remarkable 

 likeness between the scene before us and one of 

 Turner's best-known pictures, when he interrupted 

 me suddenly, saying — 



" I'll tell you a story, Frank. When a boy, I 

 remember starting one morning with poor Ferguson 

 (the owner of Harkaway) to ride one of his horses 

 in a private match. We took a short cut across an 

 old mountain road, and coming out on the brow of 

 the hill which commanded one of the finest views 

 in Ireland, I pulled up my horse to call Ferguson's 

 attention to it. ' For heaven's sake, sir,' he said 

 impatiently, ' think on something that wiJl do you 

 good.' And just at this moment, old man, I feel 

 half inclined to agree with him. How much money 

 have you left ? " 



Without speaking, I handed him my purse, the 

 contents of which he counted slowly over, saying, 

 " I think we shall have enough." 



" Enough for what ? " I asked. 



" For a ball," he replied coolly. " The people 



