"At first he thought it might be some of the neighbors wanting to play him a trick. So, to show that he was not afraid (for the drink had made him bold as a lion), when the voices above and around him kept calling out 'High up! high up!' he put in his spoke, and shouted, as loud as any of them, 'High up! high up with ye, my lads!' No sooner said than done. He was whisked off his donkey in a twinkling, and was 'high up' in the air, in the very middle of a crowd of 'good people'--for it happened to be one of their festival nights, and the cry that poor little Con heard was the summons for gathering them all together. There they were, mighty small, moving about as quickly as motes in the sunshine. Although Con had the reputation at Barry's-fort of being well acquainted with them all, you may well believe that there was not a single face among the lot that he knew.
"In less than no time, off they went, when their leader--a little morsel of a fellow, not bigger than Hop-o'-my Thumb--bawled out, 'High for France! high for France! high over!' Off they went, through the air--quick as if they were on a steeplechase. Moss and moor--mountain and valley--green field and brown bog--land and water were all left behind, and they never once halted until they reached the coast of France.
"They immediately made for the house (there it is called the _château_) of a great lord--one of the Seigneurs of the Court--and bolted through the key-hole into his wine-cellar, without leave or license. How little Con was squeezed through, I never could understand, but it is as sure as fate that he went into the cellar along with them. They soon got astride the casks, and commenced drinking the best wines, without waiting to be invited. Con, you may be sure, was not behind any of them, as far as the drinking went. The more he drank, the better relish he had for their tipple. The 'good people,' somehow or other, did not appear at all surprised at Con's being among them, but they _did_ wonder at his great thirst, and pressed him to take enough--and Con was not the man who'd wait to be asked twice. So they drank on till night slipped away, when the sun--like a proper gentleman as he is--sent in one of his earliest beams, as a sort of gentle hint that it was full time for them to return. They had a parting-glass, and, in half an hour or so, had crossed the wide sea, and dropped little Con ('pretty well, I thank you,' by this time) on the precise spot he had left on the evening before. He had been drinking out of a beautiful golden cup in the cellar, and, by some mistake or other, it had slipped up the sleeve of the large loose coat he wore, and so he brought it home with him. Not that Con was not honest enough, but surely a man may be excused for taking 'a cup too much' in a wine-cellar.