Lavengro, George Borrow [i love reading books txt] 📗
- Author: George Borrow
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“What are you doing with the dog, the fairy dog?” said a man who at this time likewise cleared the dyke at a bound.
He was a very tall man, rather well-dressed as it should seem; his garments, however, were like my own, so covered with snow that I could scarcely discern their quality.
“What are ye doing with the dog of peace?”
“I wish he would show himself one,” said I; “I said nothing to him, but he placed himself in my road, and would not let me pass.”
“Of course he would not be letting you till he knew where ye were going.”
“He’s not much of a fairy,” said I, “or he would know that without asking; tell him that I am going to see my brother.”
“And who is your brother, little Sas?”64
“What my father is, a royal soldier.”
“Oh, ye are going then to the detachment at ⸻; by my shoul, I have a good mind to be spoiling your journey.”
“You are doing that already,” said I, “keeping me here talking about dogs and fairies; you had better go home and get some salve to cure that place over your eye; it’s catching cold you’ll be, in so much snow.”
On one side of the man’s forehead there was a raw and staring wound, as if from a recent and terrible blow.
“Faith, then I’ll be going, but it’s taking you wid me I will be.”
“And where will you take me?”
“Why, then, to Ryan’s Castle, little Sas.”
“You do not speak the language very correctly,” said I; “it is not Sas you should call me—’tis Sassannach,” and forthwith I accompanied the word with a speech full of flowers of Irish rhetoric.
The man looked upon me for a moment, fixedly, then, bending his head towards his breast, he appeared to be undergoing a kind of convulsion, which was accompanied by a sound something resembling laughter; presently he looked at me, and there was a broad grin on his features.
“By my shoul, it’s a thing of peace I’m thinking ye.”
But now with a whisking sound came running down the road a hare; it was nearly upon us before it perceived us; suddenly stopping short, however, it sprang into the bog on the right-hand side; after it amain bounded the dog of peace, followed by the man, but not until he had nodded to me a farewell salutation. In a few moments I lost sight of him amidst the snowflakes.
The weather was again clear and fine before I reached the place of detachment. It was a little wooden barrack, surrounded by a wall of the same material; a sentinel stood at the gate, I passed by him, and, entering the building, found myself in a rude kind of guardroom; several soldiers were lying asleep on a wooden couch at one end, others lounged on benches by the side of a turf fire. The tall sergeant stood before the fire, holding a cooking utensil in his left hand; on seeing me, he made the military salutation.
“Is my brother here?” said I, rather timidly, dreading to hear that he was out, perhaps for the day.
“The ensign is in his room, sir,” said Bagg, “I am now preparing his meal, which will presently be ready; you will find the ensign above stairs,” and he pointed to a broken ladder which led to some place above.
And there I found him—the boy soldier—in a kind of upper loft, so low that I could touch with my hands the sooty rafters; the floor was of rough boards, through the joints of which you could see the gleam of the soldiers’ fire, and occasionally discern their figures as they moved about; in one corner was a camp bedstead, by the side of which
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