[Illustration: PAGE 736-- _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim] “Ah! _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim? Don't hunt him. If you're wise you'll keep your distance from that young fellow. I tell you, Mr. Woodward, there will be more danger to yourself in the hunt than there will be to him. It's a well-known fact that it was your mother's severity to his family that made a tory of him; and, as I said before, I would strongly recommend you to avoid him. How many bloodhounds have you got?” “Why, I think we can muster half a dozen.” “Ay, but do you know how to hunt them?” “Not exactly; but I suppose we may depend upon the instinct of the dogs.” “No, sir, you may not, unless to a very limited extent. Those tories always, when pursued by bloodhounds, go down the wind whenever it is possible, and, consequently, leave very little trail behind them. Your object will be, of course, to hunt them against the wind; they will consequently have little chance of escape, unless, as they are often in the habit of doing, they administer a sop.” “What is a sop, my lord?” “A piece of raw beef or mutton, kept for twenty-four hours under the armpit until it becomes saturated with the moisture of the body; after this, administer it to the dog, and instead of attacking he will follow you over the world. The other sop resorted to by these fellows is the middogue, or skean, and, as they contrive to manage its application, it is the surer of the two. Should you like to see Tom?” “Unquestionably, my lord. I intended before going to have requested the honor of a short interview.” “Ay, of course, to make love. Well, I tell you that Tom, like her uncle, has her wits about her. Go up, then, you will find her in the withdrawing-room; and listen--I desire that you will tell her of your tory-hunting project, and ask her opinion upon it. Now, don't forget that, because I will make inquiries about it.” Woodward certainly found her in what was then termed the withdrawing-room. She was in the act of embroidering, and received him with much courtesy and kindness. “I hope your mother and family are all well, Mr. Woodward,” she said; “as for your sister Maria she is quite a stay-at-home. Does she ever visit any one at all?” “Very rarely, indeed, Miss Riddle: but I think she will soon do herself the pleasure of calling upon you.” “I shall feel much obliged, Mr. Woodward. From what I have heard, and the little I have seen of her, a most amiable girl You have had a chat with my kind-hearted, but eccentric uncle?” “I have; and he imposed it on me as a condition that I should mention to you an enterprise on which I am bent.” “An enterprise! Pray, what is it?” “Why, a tory-hunt; I am going to hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue, as he is called, and I think it will be rendering the country a service to get rid of him.” Miss Riddle's face got pale as ashes; and she looked earnestly and solemnly into Woodward's face.