April 13, 1895, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
283 
must eagerly have sought the protection of the powerful 
chieftain of castle and fort. 
"Clonmacnoise" is full of interest to the archaeologist 
and the artist. 
There it is, the city of the dead, the resting place of 
king and prince, of bishop and warrior, and of the 
venerated saint, St. Ciaran, who died A. D. 52'6. There, 
too, its tower (its use unknown) and mined archway, 
its cathedral and castle, and there are celtic crosses, with 
all their old associations, and in all their beauty. 
To hark back, after this brief description, and travel, 
if we may, by the "Pilgrim's road," to view the present 
surroundings of old castle and fortress. 
We leave the peat bog, with all its peculiar picturesque- 
ly: 1 !? 
SURTERRANEAN CHAMBER. 
ness and enter a natural forest (one of the few remain- 
ing forests in Ireland) clothing hill and dale with wide 
spreading trees, oak and ash, beech, birch and pine, with 
the most luxuriant under-wood, laurel and holly in 
abundance. Here is the home of many a song bird, 
thrush and blackbird, redbreast and wren, goldfinch 
and linnet. Overhead the untiring songster, the syklark. 
Here, too, in forest, the woodcock rears his family, and 
finds shelter from rain and storm, and in fine weather 
he saunters forth on the adojining peat bog to join his 
more adventurous brother, the bird of passage from 
foreign parts, from Corfu, Kefalonia, or other _ favored 
Mediterranean winter resorts. Here the squirrel and 
rabbit vie with each other in activity, only concerned to 
avoid the cunning fox. Outside the forest, in the bog, 
grouse and snipe are found in large numbers. Can it be 
wondered at that the 0 'Moony of all the O'Moonys, the 
lord of the soil, surrounded by a loving and admiring- 
tenantry, should consider himself a chieftain of chief- 
tains? The following is told of one of the heads of the 
family, who visited London not many years ago. Ac- 
customed only to command, and being short of funds, he 
entered the bank of England and presented a cheque. 
Wondering at hesitation on the part of the clerk, in not at 
oncB giving him the needful, he stated in strong and 
unhesitating terms that he was "The O'Moony of the 
Doon," It was a further cause of surprise to him when 
he was informed by the bank clerk: "I don't care 
whether you are the O'Moony of the Doon, or the 
O'Doonyof the Moon." 
It was in company with this chieftain that I had mauy 
a days' sport in the woodcock coverts, in the snipe bogs, 
and duck-shooting on the waters of the Shannon, not far 
distant. Some reminiscences of these days may nr t be 
without interest. 
A grouse-shooting party, consisting of the chief, a 
neighboring squire, my eldest brother and myself, as- 
sembled on a bright day in early autumn. 
The squire, a, keen old sportsman, had the arranging of 
the shoot, and in his eagerness to make a good score, 
selected the best ground for the chief and himself , my 
brother and myself, mere boys in sport, having "the 
leavings." The. day was hot indeed, the sky without a 
cloud. We boys no sooner appeared on the open bog 
with our brace of setters than pack after pack of grouse 
took flight for parts unknown, leaving us dejected, cast 
down, and in despair. We heard many a shot from our 
friends, proving to be at long range, while we walked on 
without touching a feather. Even our setter dogs seemed 
in despair, lcoking at us as if to say "what fools we are 
to hunt the barren ground." 
Evening had set in, we must have another try, on a 
piece of rough high ground in front. No sooner had our 
dogs got on this ground than there was a splendid set. 
We approached the dogs in doubt, up got a single grouse. 
He speedily fell to my brother's gun. Another set! 
What can this be? Another single grouse, which I 
bagged. This went 
getting up, and we 
grouse after grouse 
"cease fire." With 
could not explain why, but I fired in the supposed direc- 
tion of the bird. Just as the squire was about to bring 
the gun to his shoulder, I had, to his utter astonishment, 
"cut down" the cock. Without seeing the quarry, I had 
"wiped his eye," and alas! I had made a life-long enemy. 
His face, showing just indignation, cannot be described, 
as he handed me my cock when we met. 
Memories of duck-shooting on the Shannon, near Clon- 
macnoise, will linger long in my mind. Not only was the 
sport good, but the picturesqueness of the scene, with its 
historic surroundings, round tower and Irish cross, on the 
banks of Ireland's grandest river, the Shannon, with 
perhaps the most brilliant of setting suns, added greatly 
to the charm. The caretaker of the sacred grounds of 
Clonmacnoise, the renowned Keeran Molloy, was the 
keeper of the chieftain's duck-shooting equipment, punt 
and swivel gun, small boat and paddles. The party of 
four gunners was divided equally in punt and small boat, 
one gunner working the swivel gun, the other with shot- 
guns ready to pick up wounded duck, or to shoot a stray 
snipe from the marshes close by, after the swivel gun 
had done its work. Keeran had the post of honor, as 
steersman of the punt. No Micmac Indian ever used 
more skill — the straining of eye and ear, the creeping 
'from cover to cover, the careful observation of wind and 
sunshine — in the still hunting of caribou, than did 
Keeran Molloy in steering the punt on to the quarry, the 
long string of ducks, mallard and teal, with an occasional 
sheldrake and diver from the distant sea, as they rode 
proudly on the rippling waters of the Shannon; the small 
boat, with its occupants, keeping at a respectful distance. 
Through bullrushes and sedge grass we move up wind, 
carefully avoiding all noise, nor does the gunner in 
charge of the swivel gun use less skill. With eye and 
ear he is on the lookout for the supremo moment, when 
the scouts of the party of ducks, having given the alarm, 
the flock rises simultaneously from the water, and now is 
the time for the discharge of double B shot into "the 
brown" of the flock. Ducks fall in numbers; gunners 
i for some time. Single 
boys with our "eye in" dropping 
until darkness set in, and we called 
glad hearts we carried home our 
heavy bags, to find our friends already dressed for dinner. 
We were to dine out at a neighboring squire's house. 
There was astonishment at our big bags, while our 
friends had but one or two grouse. There was no time 
for explanation till after dinner, when we had to tell our 
story, and as we accurately described the place of the 
battue, more than one person was astonished. We had 
overstepped the territorial bounds, and got into the lands 
of the giver of the dinner party, and the. grouse we had 
shot were his, and those our friends had scared with their 
long range unsuccessful firing. 
What splendid cock-shooting we had in these same bogs 
near the woods in early winter, when woodcock, having 
spent their nights in the well-sheltered woo 3s, came out 
to bask in the sunshine in the rough hillocks of the ad- 
joining bog. How picturesque the sight! The long line 
of beaters, each man clad in the peculiar dress of the 
country— tall hat, tail coat, knee breeches, many men 
bare-footed— the gunners interpersed among the beaters, 
the air resounding with the merry "Hi cock! Hi cock!" 
then the excited "Well done, your Honor!" as the heavy 
woodcock was cut down, as a result of the well-directed 
aim. 
Speaking of the "well- directed aim" reminds me of a 
day's cock-shooting with the Squire. He had kept his 
best shooting for me — a great mark of favor. We were 
walking, beside a thick hedge, he on one side, I on the 
her, through which we could not see, keeping in line as 
t we^could,^ A cock got up in front of the squire, I 
THE CITY OF THE DEAD. 
Nos. 1 and 2 seize their small shotguns, gunners 3 and 4 
paddle up with rapid strokes, and a battue succeeds, only 
to end when all wounded birds have been accounted for. 
Often we have brought to bag fifteen or twenty ducks 
as the general result of one such battue. We can now 
stretch our legs, hitherto cramped in the confined space 
afforded by punt or boat, and before starting for another 
such battue further up or down the river, you may well 
turn and gaze on the sun, now sinking behind the round 
tower of Clonmacnoise. Later on, when you return to 
your quarters at the Doon and lay the spoils before the 
admiring inmates of that hospitable house, you must 
acknowledge that you have had a good day's sport, and 
that "life is indeed worth living." Mio Mac. 
TWO TALES OF THE ROAD. 
In one of my previous communications I referred to a 
rather thrilling night ride which I had on the occasion of 
a certain trip to the post-office for the camp mail. The 
incident has suggested a day ride which I had on a cer- 
tain occasion, and which, while wanting in those partic- 
ular features which always give to night adventures a 
peculiar creepy charm, is yet I think of sufficient interest 
to deserve recounting in this connection. 
Before touching upon this incident, however, I want to 
relate a peculiar experience which I had one day while 
trout fishing, which illustrates better than anything I 
ever heard, a type of unconventionalism quite peculiar to 
a certain class and certain localities in the far West. I 
was, on the occasion in question, fishing in a park or 
open piece of ground about three miles down the valley 
from our camp,with my mule feeding and slowly follow- 
ing along after me. I had a few days before lost a par- 
ticularly fine trout in a pool at the lower end of this park, 
and so absorbed did I become in planniug just how I was 
to get him this time, and in making estimates as to his 
length and weight, that I quite forgot about my mule. 
Indeed it was not until I had hooked and, after quite a 
hard fight, landed the trout in question, that I thought to 
look after my mule, and then 1 noticed that a man was 
walking toward her from the road, where stood another 
man, evidently the first one's partner, silently watching 
his operations. There wa8 no mistaking this fellow's 
purpose, I thought, and having no desire to part with my 
mule just then, I immediately started back toward her. 
I concluded quite naturally that neither of t\ie men had 
seen me, and thought that as soon as they observed my 
presence they would give over their evident designs upon 
my animal. 
I felt almost sure after a little that the fellow must 
ha"e seen me, but as he kept steadily on his way, I at 
length shouted to him: "Stranger, that mule belongs 
to me. " . 
To my surprise, however, he did not hesitate in even 
the slightest degree, and then to my unutterable as- 
tonishment, he replied in the most nonehalent matter of 
fact way possible: "Wall, I reckon I'll have to use her a 
little bit." " , . 
The cool assurance and audacity of the fellow nearly 
took my breath away, but I managed to say to him: 
"But you can't use her, she belong* to me, and I want 
her myself." 
'T reckon I'll have to use her just the same," came the 
r»ply in that sara" tone of cool unconcerned assurance, 
and the fellow kept right along on his way. I had on 
that clay a short, light overcoat, which gave me a rather 
dudish appearance, and doubtless disposed the bold fel- 
low now quite near me to believe that 1 was a tenderfoot 
without the nerve or means with which to protect my 
property. In one of my overcoat pockets, however, there 
reposed a Smith & Wesson 44, which I could use with 
about as much facility as the average man, and I sud- 
denly determined upon a plan through which I hoped to 
continue in the possession of my mule. 
We approached the animal from nearly opposite direc- 
tions, and almost at the same moment, and just as his 
hand reached out to grasp the bridle rein near the bit, I 
showed my gun full cocked and with finger on the trigger 
under the mule's neck, saying at the same time in a quiet 
tone of voice: "Stranger, that mule belongs tome." 
I had the drop on him dead to rights, a fact which he 
was vpry quick to recognize, and in the same quiet voice 
as before, he said as he looked into the dark, ominous 
muzzle which yawned before him: "That settles it." 
Then he turned about and wa'ked back to theroal, 
never once turning his head to look in my direction. 
When he reached the road he picked up his pack, and he 
and his partner resumed their way, apparently as uncon- 
cerned as i hough they had been merely chatting with a 
friend, and not trying to rob a stranger of his mule. It 
was the Coolest, boldest bit of audacity that I ev*r wit- 
nessed, and for some moments I was undecided whether 
to be angry or amused at the incident. Its humorous as- 
pects, however, appealed to me so strongly that my anger 
cooled quite rapidly, and many times during the balance 
of the day did I find my face wreathed in involuntary 
smiles as I recalled the beautiful nerve of the fellow who 
"reckoned he'd have to use my mule." 
There was nothing amusing, however, about the other 
experience, which I referred to in the beginning of this 
article, and while no hostile demonstrations were openly 
made against me, yet I never had the slightest doubt that 
a man meditated my death, and but for my wariness and 
the fortunate appearance of another man, would doubt- 
less have attempted, and probably succeeded, m carrying 
out his fell purpose. It was on the occasion of a visit to 
Georgetown, where I had been sent by the manager to 
get $5,000 cash, which was needed for a special purpose. 
I was accompanied by a fellow named Martin, who, to- 
gether with another man, had a contract for building a 
tramway for the company, and whose mission, like 
mine, was for the purpose of securing money. He had 
completed part of his contract, and had received a check 
from the company, with the proceeds of which he ex- 
pected to pay the wages of the men employed by him and 
other expenses incident to their contract. The fellow 
came of a very respectable family, but he was a hard 
character himself, and it was freely prophesied by those 
who knew him best, that he was sure to become involved 
in some sort of trouble before the completion of his con- 
tract. He was ordinarily, however, a clever sort of a fel- 
low, and proved to be a very pleasant companion on the 
way over, the prospect of soon getting hold of a good, 
big sum of money, doubtless having upon him the same 
effect which it has upon humanity in general. 
We reached Georgetown rather late in the afternoon, 
but while the bank was still open, we decided to postpone 
our return until the following day, both on our horses' 
account, and because darkness would surely have over- 
taken us before we could have covered half the journey, 
and a night ride over a rough mountain trail is not the 
pleasantest sort of experience imaginable. I lost track of 
Martin shortly after our arrival, and as I had a personal 
letter from the manager to one of the officers of the bank, 
who made himself very agreeable to me, I didn't think 
much about him during the evening or speculate as to his 
whereabouts. When I came to retire, however, I 
thought it a little strange that I had seen nothing of him 
during the evening, and finally decided that he had been 
indulging in a little time, a weakness quite common to 
the rough western spirits, when first visiting a town after 
an absence of several weeks or months sometimes, in 
a small mining camp. The next morning after break- 
fast, as Martin had not shown up, I decided to repair to 
the bank, secure my money, and, if after a reasonable 
time he failed to appear, to start on my return journey. 
After a short delay at the bank I obtained my money, and 
iust as I reached the street, who should I encounter but 
Martin. That he had spent the night in a wild debauch 
was very evident to me from the first glimpse which I 
caught of his haggard face. His eyes were bloodshot, 
and withal there was a look of the most profound dejec- 
tion upon his face. • 
'•Well, where on earth have you been, Martin? I asked 
after a moment's survey of him. 
"I've been raakin a night of ic," he replied in a hoarse 
voice, and then he gloomily added: "I drew my money 
yesterday and lost every cent of it last night at faro." 
I was too surprised and disgusted at first to say any- 
thing, but in a moment I said: "Well, you are a fool." 
"I know it," he laconically replied, and then after eye- 
ing me intently for a moment, he added: "You've got a 
lot of money with you now; lend me some of it and I'll 
go and win back the money I lost." 
"In the first place, I haven't got much money," I re- 
plied, determined to deceive him if possible with refer- 
ence to the amount which I had with me, "and in the 
second place, if I had ever so much, I wouldn't let you 
have any, for it would be simply throwing it away." 
There was an angry and desperate look in his eyes as I 
finished, for he realized that the hope which he had en- 
tertained of getting back the money which he had lost 
and saving himself from disgrace was not to be realized. 
For a moment he glared at me angrily, and then said m 
a \ow and rather threatening tone of voipej Yow ve got 
