Burns and Stewart together.

Again came the jar of the earthquake to make the building, table,
glasses, and all shake, as Paul Darcantel strode with his heels of
adamant out of the sala and to the veranda; then a bound, which was
heard in the room; and after five minutes' stupid silence Banou
appeared.

The buckra gentleman had torn rather than led his master's barb from the
stable, and scarcely waiting for a saddle, had thrown himself like an
Indian across his back. There! his master might hear the clattering of
the hoofs up the steep.

"The mon's daft--clean daft, mon!" "Be me sowl, it's the only pair of
eyes I iver wouldn't like to look at over me saw-handled friend, Joe
Manton!" "He's taken the box with him," crackled Clinker.

But that was the last that Paddy Burns, or Stewart, or Clinker ever saw
of man or box. Piron rose and listened to the sound of the receding
hoofs from the veranda; and when he resumed his place his lips were
sealed for the night. _He_ saw, however, and the rest of them heard a
good deal about the man and the box in time to come.

Did that blooded horse, as he dashed round the curve of the peak, with
his thin nostrils blazing red in the dark night, know who his rider was,
and on what errand he was bound? It was not snuff that distended those
wide nostrils as he plunged down the broken road, through the close,
deep forest, over rocks and water-courses, without missing a step with
his sure, ringing hoofs; and mounting the sharp gorge beyond with the
leap of a stag, his mane and tail streaming in the calm, thick night;
the eyes lanterns of pursuing light, flashing out before his precipitous
tread in jets of fire, as his feet struck the flinty stones, with a
regular, enduring throb from his heaving chest, as an encouraging hand
patted his shoulder and urged him onward.

Down the mountain again, with never a shy or a snort--the horse
knowing the rider, and the man the noble beast; the lizards wheetling
merrily, and the paroquets on the tree-tops waking up to chatter with
satisfaction. Then into the beaten track along by the sea-shore, the
horse increasing his stride at every minute, the spume flying in
flakes from his flaming nostrils, and the man bending to his hot
neck, smoothing away the white foam, until, with a panting stagger,
horse and rider stood still in the town of Kingston.

"Here, my boys, rub this your master's horse down well, and walk him
about the court-yard for an hour. The