_them_ blackguards beginning?--fire away, and be hanged to you!" His
rascals shouted, bang went the drum, and clang went the cymbals, the
clarionet squeaked, and the fife tootled, but the trumpet--ah!--the
trumpet--their great reliance--where was the trumpet? O'Grady inquired
in the precise words, with a diabolical addition of his own. "Where the
d---- is the trumpet?" said he; he looked over the side of the carriage
as he spoke, and saw the trumpeter spitting out a mouthful of beer which
had run from the instrument as he lifted it to his mouth.

"Bad luck to you, what are you wasting your time there for?" thundered
O'Grady in a rage; "why didn't you spit out when you were young, and
you'd be a clean old man? Blow and be d---- to you!"

The trumpeter filled his lungs for a great blast, and put the trumpet to
his lips--but in vain; Andy had bottled his music for him. O'Grady,
seeing the inflated cheeks and protruding eyes of the musician, whose
visage was crimson with exertion, and yet no sound produced, thought the
fellow was practising one of his jokes upon him, and became excessively
indignant; he thundered anathemas at him, but his voice was drowned in
the din of the drum and cymbals, which were plied so vigorously, that
the clarionet and fife shared the same fate as O'Grady's voice. The
trumpeter could judge of O'Grady's rage from the fierceness of his
actions only, and answered him in pantomimic expression, holding up his
trumpet and pointing into the bell, with a grin of vexation on his phiz,
meant to express something was wrong; but this was all mistaken by the
fierce O'Grady, who only saw in the trumpeter's grins the insolent
intention of jibing him.

"Blow, you blackguard, blow!" shouted the Squire. Bang went the drum.

"Blow--or I'll break your neck!" Crash went the cymbals.

"Stop your banging there, you ruffians, and let me be heard!" roared
the excited man; but as he was standing up on the seat of the carriage,
and flung his arms about wildly as he spoke, the drummer thought his
action was meant to stimulate him to further exertion, and he banged
away louder than before.

"By the hokey, I'll murder some o' ye!" shouted the Squire, who,
ordering the carriage to pull up, flung open the door and jumped out,
made a rush at the drummer, seized his principal drumstick, and giving
him a bang over the head with it, cursed him for a rascal for not
stopping when he told him; this silenced all the instruments