"And I know he will find that stag for you, Mr.
Moore, if he is to be found; for Donacha, or Duncan, is the wisest
little creature you ever saw, I wish I could talk Gaelic, just to make
him feel at home the first few days." Then she turned to her companions.
"Who began this round--Mr. Lestrange? Very well, when it comes to Sybil,
I propose we let you gentlemen go off to your cigars in the gun-room;
for poor Mr. Moore, I know, hasn't been allowed to smoke all day; and I
am sure he must be far too tired to think of playing poker. How many do
you want, Rose?"
When this round of poker was finished, the gentlemen did not seem to
resent being dismissed to the so-called gun-room, where, round the great
blazing peat fire, and with cigars and pipes and whiskey-and-soda to
console them in their banishment, Lionel was called upon to give them
more minute details regarding his day's adventures. And very various
were the opinions expressed as to the chances of that stag being found.
Some ominous stories were told of the extraordinary distances deer were
known to have run even when mortally wounded; and there were
possibilities suggested of his having fallen into a rapid watercourse
and been carried down to the rushing river; while Sir Hugh ventured to
hint that, if he were not found on the morrow, the probability was that
some shepherd, in his remote and lonely shieling just outside the
forest, would be feasting on venison for a considerable time to come.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348