"No, you didn't," said Murphy. "You've made some mistake."
"Divil a mistake I made," answered Andy, very stoutly. "I wint home the minit you gev it to me."
"Did you go home direct from my house to the squire's?"
"Yis, sir, I did--I went direct home, and called at Mr. M'Garry's by the way for some physic for the childre."
"That's it!" said Murtough; "he changed my enclosure for a blister there; and if M'Garry has only had the luck to send the bit o' parchment to O'Grady, it will be the best joke I've heard this month of Sundays."
"He did! he did!" shouted Tom Durfy; "for don't you remember how O'Grady was after M'Garry this morning?"
"Sure enough," said Murtough, enjoying the double mistake. "By dad! Andy, you've made a mistake this time that I'll forgive you."
"By the powers o' war!" roared Dick the Devil; "I won't forgive him what he did now, though. What do you think?" said he, holding out the pistols, and growing crimson with rage, "may I never fire another shot, if he hasn't crammed a brace of bullets down the pistols before I loaded them; so no wonder you burned prime, Ned."
There was a universal laugh at Dick's expense, whose pride in being considered the most accomplished regulator of the duello was well known.
"Oh, Dick, Dick! you're a pretty second!" was shouted by all.
Dick, stung by the laughter, and feeling keenly the ridiculous position in which he was placed, made a rush at Andy, who, seeing the storm brewing, gradually sneaked away from the group, and when he perceived the sudden movement of Dick the Devil, took to his heels, with Dick after him.
"Hurra!" cried Murphy, "a race--a race! I'll bet on Andy--five pounds on Andy."
"Done!" said the squire: "I'll back Dick the Divil."
"Tare an' ouns!" roared Murphy, "how Andy runs! Fear's a fine spur."
"So is rage," said the squire. "Dick's hot-foot after him. Will you double the bet?"
The infection of betting caught the bystanders, and various gages were thrown and taken up upon the speed of the runners, who were getting rapidly into the distance, flying over hedge and ditch with surprising velocity, and, from the level nature of the ground, an extensive view could not be obtained, therefore Tom Durfy, the steeple-chaser, cried, "Mount, mount! or we'll lose the fun--into our saddles, and after them."