s of black clouds were hurrying across
the sky, and the low rumbling noise of a gathering storm crept along the
ground. Our panting equipage, with its two mounted grooms behind,--for to
provide against all accident, Mike ordered two such to follow us,--stood
in waiting. Miss Blake's horse, held by the smallest imaginable bit of
boyhood, bringing up the rear.

"Look at Paddy Byrne's face," said Baby, directing my attention to the
little individual in question.

Now, small as the aforesaid face was, it contrived, within its limits, to
exhibit an expression of unqualified fear. I had no time, however, to give
a second look, when I jumped into the phaeton and seized the reins. Mike
sprang up behind at a look from me, and without speaking a word, the
stablemen and helpers flew right and left. The chestnuts, seeing all free
before them, made one tremendous plunge, carrying the fore-carriage clear
off the ground, and straining every nut, bolt, screw, and strap about us
with the effort.

"They're off now," cried Mickey.

"Yes, they are off now," said Baby. "Keep them going."

Nothing could be easier to follow than this advice; and in fact so little
merit had I in obeying it, that I never spoke a word. Down the avenue we
went, at the speed of lightning, the stones and the water from the late
rain flying and splashing about us. In one series of plunges, agreeably
diversified by a strong bang upon the splash-board, we reached the gate.
Before I had time to utter a prayer for our safety, we were through and
fairly upon the high road.

"Musha, but the master's mad!" cried the old dame of the gate-lodge; "he
wasn't out of this gate for a year and a half, and look now--"

The rest was lost in the clear ringing laugh of Baby, who clapped her hands
in ecstasy and delight.

"What a spanking pair they are! I suppose you wouldn't let me get my hand
on them?" said she, making a gesture as if to take the reins.

"Heaven forbid, my dear!" said I; "they've nearly pulled my wrists off
already."

Our road, like many in the west of Ireland, lay through a level tract of
bog; deep ditches, half filled with water, on either side of us, but,
fortunately, neither hill nor valley for several miles.

"There's the mail," said Baby, pointing to a dark speck at a long distance
off.

Ere many minutes elapsed, our stretching gallop, for such had our pace
sobered into, brought us up with it, and as we flew by, at top speed, Baby
jumped to her f