“Here’s her health, masther,” returned Keenan, “an’ her father’s too, an’ Hycy Burke’s into the bargain—­is there any more o’ them?  Well, no matter.”  Then turning to his antagonist, he added, “I say agin, thin, that a Mullin’s not a match for a Keenan, nor never was—­no, nor never will be!  That’s the chat! and who’s afeard to say it? eh, masther?”

“It’s a lie!” shouted one of the opposite party; “I’m able to lick e’er a Keenan that ever went on nate’s leather—­an’ that’s my chat.”

A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gunpowder.  In a moment the cavern presented a scene singularly tragic-comic; the whole party was one busy mass of battle, with the exception of Ted and Batt, and the wife of the latter, who, having first hastily put aside everything that might be injured, stood enjoying the conflict with most ferocious glee, the schoolmaster having already withdrawn himself to his chair.  Even Barney Broghan, the fool, could not keep quiet, but on the contrary, thrust himself into the quarrel, and began to strike indiscriminately at all who came in his way, until an unlucky blow on the nose happening, to draw his claret very copiously, he made a bound up behind the sill, uttering a series of howlings, as from time to time he looked at his own blood, that were amusing in the extreme.  As it happened, however, the influence of liquor was too strong upon both parties to enable them to inflict on each other any serious injury.  Such, however, was the midnight pastime of the still-house when our friend Hycy entered.

“What in the devil’s name—­or the guager’s—­which is worse—­” he asked, addressing himself to Batt and Teddy, “is the meaning of all this?”

“Faith, you know a’most as much about it,” replied Hogan, laughing, “as we do; they got drunk, an’ that accounts for it.”

“Mr. Burke,” said Finigan, who was now quite tipsy; “I am delighted to be able to—­to—­yes, it is he,” he added, speaking to himself—­“to see you well.”

“I have my doubts as to that, Mr. Finigan,” replied Hycy.

“Fame, Mr. Burke,” continued the other, “has not been silent with regard to your exploits.  Your horsemanship, sir, and the trepid pertinacity with which you fasten upon the reluctant society of men of rank, have given you a notorious celebrity, of which your worthy father, honest Jemmy, as he is called, ought to be justly proud.  And you shine, Mr. Burke, in the loves as well as in the—­tam veneri quam—­I was about to add Marti, but it would be inappropriate, or might only remind you of poor Biddy Martin.  It is well known you are a most accomplished gintleman, Mr. Burke—­homo fadus ad unguem—­ad unguem.”

Hycy would have interrupted the schoolmaster, but that he felt puzzled as to whether he spoke seriously or ironically; his attention besides was divided between him and the party in conflict.

“Come,” said he, addressing Hogan and Teddy, “put an end to this work, and why did you, you misbegotten vagabond,” he added, turning to the latter, “suffer these fellows to remain here when you knew I was to come up?”