xing stirabout at the time. 'Oh, God save us, don't be doing
that, Sor,' says he. 'Hoult hard a day or so and I'll be afther findin'
some little object to hunt, that them dirthy blagyards won't shoot at all.'

"Two mornings later he turned up, dragging something in an oat-sack.

"I have it here that'll course out before the houn's like a shootin'-star,'
says he.

"'What is it?' says I.

"The rogue put his hand in the sack and drew out a yellow mongrel dog.

"'Where did ye get that?' says I.

"'Shure didn't I borry it?' says he.

"'And who did ye borrow it from?' says I.

"'From Misther Flynn, no less,' says he. ''Tis his little foxey pet dog.'

"'Does Mr. Flynn know you borrowed it from him?' says I.

"'Begob that he does not,' says he. 'Mr. Flynn is beyond in Youghal and I
borryed it in the dark dead of night over the yard wall. Faith, he'll run
home like a flick of lightning, he's that scared, the same dog.'

"'Ye did well,' said I; 'but will the hounds chase him?'

"'That they will, Sor. What with foxes one day, stags the next and hares
the next, there's sorra a born thing they wouldn't hunt given there's smell
enough in it,' says the lad. 'Have ye the laste little trace of aniseed in
the house that you could drench the crature with the way the houn's would
folly him?'

"Divil a drop of aniseed or anything else had I on the place, and I stood
there scratching my ear with my crop wondering what to do, when suddenly I
remembered that relic of my courting days, 'Florazora.' 'I have it,' I
said; 'I've got something that'll fix _that_ hare all right.'

"I fetched the bottle and rubbed a handful or so of the stuff well into Mr.
Flynn's pet dog and let him go with a flip of my whip lash to help him on
his way. He lit out for home as though the devil had kicked him, yelling
blue murder and laying a trail of flowers and honey across the country so
thick you could pretty nigh eat it. I gave him a fair start, then laid the
hounds on and we had a five-mile point, going like a steeplechase all the
way. Flynn lives in a lonely house about half a mile out of Ballinknock,
and the 'bag-man' got home to it and through the wee dog-hole into the yard
with just six inches to spare.

"Patsey went over the wall and borrowed the dog three times after that. It
was no trouble at all. Flynn was still away in Youghal, and his housekeeper
was that deaf Gabriel would have to announce the Crack of Doom to her on
his fingers. But it