As it was, our hayro sprang to one side. As Rosie passed his left hand gripped her tail. When one of the O’Gills takes hould of a thing he hangs on like a bull-terrier. Away he went, rushing with her.
Now began a race the like of which was never heard of before or since. Ten jumps to the second and a hundred feet to the jump. Rosie’s tail standing straight up in the air, firm as an iron bar, and Darby floating straight out behind; a thousand furious fairies flying a short distance after, filling the air with wild commands and threatenings.
Suddenly the sky opened for a crash of lightning that shivered the hills, and a roar of thunder that turned out of their beds every man, woman, and child in four counties. Flash after flash came the lightning, hitting on every side of our hayro. If it wasn’t for fear of hurting Rosie the fairies would certainly have killed Darby. As it was, he was stiff with fear, afraid to hould on and afraid to lave go, but flew, waving in the air at Rosie’s tail like a flag.
As the cow turned into the long, narrow valley which cuts into the east side of the mountain the Good People caught up with the pair, and what they didn’t do to Darby in the line of sticking pins, pulling
