the cash." The Cashel-man looked back at the table, and turned his pockets most eloquently inside out. "Though I paid you in hard money, without drawback, you remember,: added the the tanner of Carrick.
"You put de money on de board," croked the Cashel man.
"Yes, I know," said Darby.
"But you took it up and fobbed it again, I believe," pursued the other.
It would be impossible to put down in good set terms the ensuing dialogue. Darby's honest blood was instantly warmed with the aspersion. The one roundly asserted what the other as positively denied. The debate grew hot, each being positive that he was right, and his opponent an arrant rogue. From words they naturally enough came to a thwacking contest, wherein Darby was, as usual in such cases, completely victorious. After thrashing his opponent to his heart’s content, he walked quietly to his inn, saddled his horse, and in his high flow of spirits and internal triumph for the victory, never thought of the cause of the quarrel, until he reached his own pillow at Carrick.
About a week after this, the Cashel-man's door was rudely assaulted about twilight, and on reconnoitring through the window, he discovered the outline of an unknown leg at the door.
"Who waits there," said he, surlily.
"'Tis I, the man o th' leather,” was the reply.
