Hudy XII

Chapter XII - The Sports

But only one part of the games had been decided, and Colonel Heyland, anxious for many reasons to put an end to this bye-play, said,

"I think it is high time now to proceed with the throwing of the stone; and Hudy, my good fellow, I have a favor to ask - you will oblige me extremely if you restrain your temper and avoid saying an offensive word to Lord Caledon or any of his friends; they are here on my invitation, and are entitled to the rights of hospitality."

"Augh the divil a crooked word indeed! When I'm done I'm done; whativir I have to say comes out boult, and no more about it. Bad luck to ayther spite or malice ivir stuck an hour in my gizzard, do ye mind, so I'm your man, Colonel acushla."

With the prospect of immediate action, like his countrymen on the field of battle, his mirth, gaiety and wild-fire returned: the Clift was himself again; and without any further delay, to the appointed spot they went; but to Hudy's astonishment two fresh opponents were presented to contest the prize. His eye flashed with indignation.

"Is that fair, Colonel? But divil may care, it's all wan to me, do ye mind; so don't say a word about it."

His new antagonists were both large brawny men, of powerful sinew and muscle - in every way adapted to the trying exercise: they looked as if secure in their own strength and skill. Believing the struggle lay between themselves, they seemd to sneer at their comparatively slight-made competitor; who on the contrary surveyed their square-built frames, their context and symmetrical proportions, with evident delight. It was the duty of Lord Caledon's champion to exhibit first; he took his stand.

"By my sowl my boy," said the Clift, "ye may curse both bouk and bones if ye don't carry the day."

He raised the immense shoulder-stone with an apparent and not unsuccessful attempt at effect; he lightly and gracefully poised it, weighed it several times on his raised hand, sprung on his forward foot, with all the skill of a statuary displayed his fine dimensions, and then summoning his best energies, forward went the ponderous missile, projected with surpassing muscular power. A loud shout of admiration from the spectators marked their just sense of the feat, and the gratified performer retired amid the warm congratulations of his friends.

Generous and noble-minded, the Clift never knew the heart-curse inflicted by petty jealousy - delighted with his opponent's performance, he sprung forward, caught him by the hand, and in the exuberance of honest feeling wrung it till he winced with pain:

"A capityal throw, by my sowl! - divil a nater! Augh by the powers, it's yerself's the stick to make a beetle of."

Time was called, and Lord O'Neill's champion advanced. It was soon plain that he was no favorite. He occupied that unfortunate position which Shakespeare, in the play of "Richard II" so very aptly describes:

As in a theatre the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard.

He was neither graceful nor anxious to appear so; besides, he stripped much a less athletic frame, and had little appearance of possessing that fire and energy which might compensate for the absence of brute force. He carelessly lifted the stone: the crowd looked listlessly on; but the Clift surveyed him with more interest:

"Bad luck to me, but you're an ould fox!"

He raised the crag to his shoulder.

"By the powers, you'll do the business afther all, ma bouchal!"

The crowd sneered at the prognostic; but the second candidate for fame, unheeding their remarks, took his stand; and without poise of body, swing of the stone, or any other attempt at creating an impetus, forward flew the projectile which, to the surprise of all, and the chagrin of Lord Caledon's party, alighted a yard beyond the first cast. But the immense propelling power necessary to the accomplishment of the feat impelled the actor's body forcibly in the direction of the stone; and under the influence of the exertion he sprung three feet from the ground - a circumstance not strictly in accordance with the laws that regulate the game; yet with admirable presence of mind and self-government, he alighted fairly behind the trig.

"Foul, foul! he's over the trig: he has lost his throw!" exclaimed the deeply disappointed friends of Lord Caledon.

"Bad luck to the single hair's-breadth! All's right and fair: he has bate his man clivirly," shouted the Clift; and on due examination his assertions were found to be correct. The followers of Lord O'Neill were vociferous and unmeasured in their praises, setting their favorite down as the successful champion; but Hudy thought they were carrying the joke too far, and advancing said:

"Bi do hocht, boys darlin's! - aisy a bit - there's wan throw to come yit, and afther that why

Mol an tah mur gheibhir e." [praise the ford as you find it]

And he lifted the stone; but the crowd was impatient, evidently believing, and not backward in declaring, that he had no chance; and the sarcastic laugh and the biting sneer again told on the Clift's temper. He heard and understood the undergrowl. He paused; and like a tiger selecting his prey he shot wild indignant glances round the insulting groups in search of a proper object for his vengeance - but in vain. At length an old man, indulging his sarcastic humour, had the temerity to say,

"Put an yer clothes, ma bouchal bawn: ye want the weight, acushla. Your donny windlesthraw of an arm was nivir made to throw that stone, a hesky!"

"Bad luck to ye for an ould bodagh, how do you know? But the grey head and the dhirty tongue's constant companions, and more's the pity! becase respect for the wan won't let us taich the other manners, do ye mind!"

Then, roused to the point only below madness, he scornfully turned from his old tormentor; and poising the stone, he exclaimed to a laughing group that crossed his way,

"Clear the road, bad luck to ye for a pack of ill-nathured dhirty feuterers! Fitter for ye to go and sweep the dog-kennels. Clear the road I say, or by the powers I'll send the stone whuzzin' among the middle of yez!"

The party sought no second advice. The gleaming eye, the flushed countenance, the fierce energetic manner of the Clift, demonstrated the necessity of obedience; and without further let or hindrance he was permitted to proceed. He waited not - he courted no eulogy - he sought no adventitious aid - he depended solely on the unequalled power of his own muscle: the stone flew six feet beyond the last cast!

The tide of popularity is easily turned. That crowd which a few moments before had made him the butt of their bitterest ridicule now cheered him to the skies, and showed symptoms of a desire to carry him in triumph round the scene of action; but he despised them too thoroughly to permit their worthless compliment. Still burning with indignation, he turned upon them like a stag at bay, and shaking his clenched fist in their faces he exclaimed in a most determined manner:

"Stand back I say, ye omadhons! Begone! - bad luck to ye for a pack of senseless, spiritless, lick-spittle hounds - an' smack yer lips an' wag yer tails at some other fellow's heels! Go and cheer Lord Caledon: by my sowl you'll not follow me!"

"Hudy," said the Colonel (as with warm congratulations he shook his champion's hand), "didn't you promise me not to insult his Lordship?"

"Augh by my sowl I forgot! But divil carry them idiots, they're enough to dhrive wan mad. Well sure I'll thry to watch myself and not say another word to him till all's over, though faix he little desarves it; for it was his own sweet self that ruffled my feathers this morning, wid his unmanly pride, and his long English. Bad luck to him! who cares about him or his pride? But naboclish! I'll keep my promise; so ye see, let's get to the race as fast as we can, and may be I won't show ye play!"

Colonel Heyland was now quite satisfied that the bets were all won. Previous to the test he might have had doubts with regard to the throwing of the stone; but as a jumper and runner he knew his champion had no equal. Triumphant in the first two trials, he felt no uneasiness as to the result of the last: he had, however, rather knowingly laid out the course over the roughest part of the mountain, aware that neither stock nor stone, heather nor furze, was any impediment to the Clift's agility. He knew that without loss of breath or slackening of sinew he could breast the steep hill or scud like an antelope along the plain: as correctly did he calculate its effects upon Hudy's competitors.

This page was last updated 11 Nov 2018