The barn was at some distance from the house, and what a time
there was in summoning the boy! The method was sufficiently telling,
one would think, since it informed the whole neighborhood when he was
wanted. It consisted in blowing the horn for him. Now, this was no
common horn, but the voice of a giant imprisoned in a cylinder. Jack
could have explained it upon the principle of compressed air, for he
was studying natural philosophy; but Mr. Sheridan's Michael once
described it in this way:
"Sure, it's the queerest thing that ever ye saw! Ye just jam one piece
of tin pipe into another piece of tin pipe, as hard as ye can; an' it
lets a wail out of it that ye'd think would strike terror to the heart
of a stone and wake the dead!"
Whatever effect it might have upon granite or ghosts, however, Jack was
usually so engrossed with the boat as to be deaf to its call. If Mrs.
Gordon wanted him to harness a horse for her in a hurry, there was no
use in sounding a bugle blast; she might try again and again, but in
the end she would have to send some one over to him with the message.
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