Then, to do him justice, he needed little coaxing from me.

If only his wind was as long as his stride, this hue and cry might prove a holiday freak.

If not-- It was a moment of keen suspense when at last I got clear of the avenue and looked round in search of the fugitive.

There she was, her light figure thrown back as she strained at the reins, and her face turned to the upland ahead.

Just beyond Knockowen, on the south side, is a long stretch of smooth turf, lying along the cliff-tops for a mile or more, and then suddenly cut short by a deep chasm in the coast, into which the waters of the lough pour tumultuously even in fair weather, and in foul, rage and boil as if in a caldron.