rence of
his companion made him feel the storm and the hurricane a far preferable
alternative.

"The divil a one foot ye'll leave this, my boy," said Miles, grasping
him with the grip of his gigantic hand; "no, no, ma bouchai, 'tisn't so
easy airned as ye think; a hundred pounds, naboclish!

"Leave me free! let go my arm!" said Owen, whose anger now rose at the
insolence of this taunt.

"I'll break it across my knee, first," said the infuriated ruffian, as
he half imitated by a gesture his horrid threat.

There was no comparison in point of bodily strength between them; for
although Owen was not half the other's age, and had the advantage of
being perfectly sober, the smith was a man of enormous power, and held
him, as though he were a child in his grasp.

"So that's what you'd be at, my boy, is it?" said Miles, scoffing; "it's
the fine thrade you choose! but maybe it's not so pleasant, after all.
Stay still there--be quiet, I say--by----," and here he uttered a most
awful oath--"if you rouse me, I'll paste your brains against that
wall;" and as he spoke, he dashed his closed fist against the rude and
crumbling masonry, with a force that shook several large stones from
their places, and left his knuckles one indistinguishable mass of blood
and gore.

"That's brave, anyhow," said Owen, with a bitter mockery, for his own
danger, at the moment, could not repress his contempt for the savage
conduct of the other.

Fortunately, the besotted intellect of the smith made him accept the
speech in a very different sense, and he said, "There never was the man
yet, I wouldn't give him two blows at me, for one at him, and mine to be
the last."

"I often heard of that before," said Owen, who saw that any attempt
to escape by main force was completely out of the question, and that
stratagem alone could present a chance.

"Did ye ever hear of Dan Lenahan?" said Miles, with a grin; "what I did
to Dan: I was to fight him wid one hand, and the other tied behind my
back; and when he came up to shake hands wid me before the fight, I just
put my thumb in my hand, that way, and I smashed his four fingers over
it."

"There was no fight that day, anyhow, Miles."

"Thrue for ye, boy; the sport was soon over--raich me over the bottle,"
and with that, Miles finished the poteen at a draught, and then lay
back against the wall, as if to sleep. Still, he never relinquished his
grasp, but, as he fell off asleep, held him as in a vice.