"Oh, then, your honour's as sharp as a needle entirely; but about that
same lake it's a _quare_ story sure enough. A long time before there was
a waterfall here at all, one of the _rale ould_ O'Sullivans was out all
day hunting the red deer among the mountains. Well, sir, just as he was
getting quite weary, and was wishing for a drop of the _cratur_ to put
him in spirits--"

"Or spirits into him," said I.

"Oh, sure, 'tis all the same thing," returned Doolan with a grin,
intended for a smile. "'Tis all one surely, if a man can only have the
drop when he wants it. Well, what should O'Sullivan see but the most
beautiful stag that ever was seen before or since in this world; for he
was as big as a colt, and had horns upon him like a weaver's beam, and a
collar of real gold round his neck. Away went the stag, and away went
the dogs after him full cry, and O'Sullivan after the dogs, for he was
determined to have that beautiful fine stag; and though, as I said, he
was tired and weary enough, you'd think the sight of that stag put fresh
life into him. A pretty bit of a dance he led him, for he was an
enchanted stag. Away he went entirely off by Macgillicuddy's Reeks,
round by the mountains of the Upper Lake, crossed the river by the
Eagle's Nest, and never stopped nor staid till he came to where the
Punch Bowl is now. When O'Sullivan came to the same place he was fairly
ready to drop, and for certain that was no wonder; but what vexed him
more than all was to find his dogs at fault, and the never a bit of a
stag to be seen high nor low. Well, my dear _sowl_, he didn't know what
to make of it, and seeing there was no use in staying there, and it so
late, he whistled his dogs to him, and was just going to go home. The
moon was just setting over to the top of the mountain shedding her