“But fwhat diz it all mane?” continued Phelim, returning to the unexplained puzzle of the transformation. “Fwhare’s the tother—the young chap, or lady, or wuman—whichsomiver she art?
Didn’t yez see nothin’ av a wuman, Miss Pointdixther?”
“Yes—yes.”
“Oh! yez did.
An fwhere is she now?”
“Gone away, I believe.”
“Gone away!
Be japers, thin, she hasn’t remained long in the wan mind.
I lift her heeur in the cyabin not tin minnits ago, takin’ aff her bonnit—that was only a man’s hat—an sittlin’ hersilf down for a stay.
Gone, yez say?
Sowl!
I’m not sorry to hear it.
That’s a young lady whose room’s betther than her company, any day in the twilmonth. She’s a dale too handy wid her shootin’-iron.
Wud yez belave it, Miss Pointdixther; she prisinted a pistol widin six inches av me nose?”
“Pardieu! For what reason?” “Fwhat rayzun?
Only that I thried to hindher her from inthrudin’ into the cyabin.
She got in for all that; for whin owld Zeb come back, he made no objecshun to it.
She sayed she was a frind av the masther, an wanted to nurse him.”
“Indeed!
Oh! it is strange—very strange!” muttered the Creole, reflectingly.
“Trath, is it.
And so is iverything in these times, exciptin’ yez own swate silf; that I hope will niver be sthrange in a cyabin frequinted by Phaylim Onale.
Shure, now, I’m glad to see yez, miss; an shure so wud the masther, if—”
“Dear Phelim! tell me all that has happened.”
“Trath! thin miss, if I’m to till all, ye’ll hiv to take off your bonnet, and make up your moind for a long stay—seein’ as it ’ut take the big ind av a whole day to relate all the quare things that’s happened since the day afore yesthirday.”
“Who has been here since then?”
“Who has been heeur?”
“Except the—the—”
“Exceptin’ the man-wuman, ye mane?”
“Yes.
Has any one else been to this place?”
“Trath has thare—plinty besoides. An av all sorts, an colours too.
First an foremost there was wan comin’ this way, though he didn’t git all the way to the cyabin.
But I daren’t tell you about him, for it moight frighten ye, miss.”
“Tell me.
I have no fear.”
“Be dad! and I can’t make it out meself quite intirely. It was a man upon horseback widout a hid.”
“Without a head!”
“Divil a bit av that same on his body.” The statement caused Phelim to be suspected of having lost his. “An’ what’s more, miss, he was for all the world like Masther Maurice himself.
Wid his horse undher him, an his Mexikin blanket about his showlders, an everything just as the young masther looks, when he’s mounted, Sowl! wasn’t I scared, whin I sit my eyes on him.”
“But where did you see this, Mr O’Neal?”
“Up thare on the top av the bluff.
I was out lookin’ for the masther to come back from the Sittlement, as he’d promised he wud that mornin’, an who showld I see but hisself, as I supposed it to be.
An’ thin he comes ridin’ up, widout his hid, an’ stops a bit, an thin goes off at a tarin’ gallop, wid Tara gowlin’ at his horse’s heels, away acrass the big plain, till I saw no more av him.
Thin I made back for the cyabin heeur, an shut meself up, and wint to slape; and just in the middle av me dhrames, whin I was dhramin’ of—but trath, miss, yez’ll be toired standin’ on yer feet all this time.
Won’t yez take aff yer purty little ridin’ hat, an sit down on the thrunk thare?—it’s asier than the stool.
Do plaze take a sate; for if I’m to tell yez all—”
“Never mind me—go on.
Please tell me who else has been here besides this strange cavalier; who must have been some one playing a trick upon you, I suppose.”
“A thrick, miss!