evented
him from sending them both to the halter had that been necessary, and
had they put themselves so far in his power. Much as the sportsman
loves the fox, it is a moment to him of keen enjoyment when he puts
his heavy boot on the beast's body,--the expectant dogs standing
round demanding their prey--and there both beheads and betails him.
"A grand old dog," he says to those around him. "I know him well. It
was he who took us that day from Poulnarer, through Castlecor, and
right away to Drumcollogher." And then he throws the heavy carcass
to the hungry hounds. And so could Mr. Prendergast have delivered up
either of the Molletts to be devoured by the dogs of the law; but he
did not the less love them tenderly while they were yet running.

And so he sat with the letter in his hand, smiling to think that the
father and son had come to grief among themselves; smiling also at
the dodge by which, as he thought most probable, Aby Mollett was
striving to injure the man who had kicked him, and raise a little
money for his own private needs. There was too much earnestness in
that prayer for cash to leave Mr. Prendergast in any doubt as to
Aby's trust that money would be forthcoming. There must be something
in the dodge, or Aby would not have had such trust.

And the lawyer felt that he might, perhaps, be inclined to give some
little assistance to poor Aby in the soreness of his needs. Foxes
will not do well in any country which is not provided with their
natural food. Rats they eat, and if rats be plentiful it is so far
good. But one should not begrudge them occasional geese and turkeys,
or even break one's heart if they like a lamb in season. A fox will
always run well when he has come far from home seeking his breakfast.

Poor Aby, when he had been so cruelly treated by the "gent of Appy
ouse," whose side in the family dispute he had latterly been so
anxious to take, had remained crouching for some hour or two in
Owen's kitchen, absolutely mute. The servants there for a while felt
sure that he was dying; but in their master's present mood they did
not dare to go near him with any such tidings. And then when the
hounds were gone, and the place was again quiet, Aby gradually roused
himself, allowed them to wash the blood from his hands and face, to
restore him to life by whisky and scraps of food, and gradually got
himself into his car, and so back to the Kanturk Hotel, in South Main
Street, Cork.

But, alas, his state