“Arrah! don't provoke me. Take your baste and go, in God's name.” And so saying, Kerry, whose patience was fast ebbing, pushed wide the stable-door, and pointed to the stall where Lanty's hackney was standing. “Bring out that grey mare, Master Kerry,” said Lanty in a tone of easy insolence, purposely assumed to provoke the old huntsman's anger, “Bring her out here.” “And what for, would I bring her out?” “May be I'll tell you afterwards,” was the reply. “Just do as I say, now.” “The devil a one o' me will touch the beast at your bidding; and what's more, I'll not let yourself lay a finger on her.” “Be quiet, you old fool,” said a deep voice behind him. He turned, and there stood Mark O'Donoghue himself, pale and haggard after his night's excess. “Be quiet, I say. The mare is his--let him have her.” “Blessed Virgin!” exclaimed Kerry, “here's the hunting season beginning, and sorrow thing you'll have to put a saddle on, barrin'--barrin'--” “Barring what?” interposed Lanty, with an insolent grin. The young man flushed at the impertinence of the insinuation, but said not a word for a few minutes, then suddenly exclaimed-- “Lanty, I have changed my mind; I'll keep the mare.” The horse-dealer started, and stared him full in the face-- “Why Mr. Mark, surely you're not in earnest? The beast is paid for--the bargain all settled.” “I don't care for that. There's your money again. I'll keep the mare.” “Ay, but listen to reason. The mare is mine. She was so when you handed me the luck-penny, and if I don't wish to part with her, you cannot compel me.” “Can't I?” retorted Mark, with a jeering laugh; “can't I, faith? Will you tell me what's to prevent it? Will you take the law of me? Is that your threat?” “Devil a one ever said I was that mean, before!” replied Lanty, with an air of deeply-offended pride. “I never demeaned myself to the law, and I'm fifteen years buying and selling horses in every county in Munster. No, Mr. Mark, it is not that; but I'll just tell you the truth, The mare is all as one as sold already;--there it is now, and that's the whole secret.” “Sold! What do you mean?--that you had sold that mare before you ever bought her?” “To be sure I did,” cried Lanty, assuming a forced look of easy assurance he was very far from feeling at the moment. “There's nothing more common in my trade. Not one of us buys a beast without knowing where the next owner is to be had.” “And do you mean, sir,” said Mark, as he eyed him with a steady stare, “do you mean to tell me that you came down here, as you would to a petty fanner's cabin, with your bank-notes, ready to take whatever you may pitch your fancy on, sure and certain that our necessities must make us willing chapmen for all you care to deal in--do you dare to say that you have done this with _me?_”