Part 17 (2/2)

”A charge, Steen--what is it? You are a staunch, steady fellow, I know; what is this charge?”

”Why, sir, we met a suspicious character on the old bridle road beyond Reilly's, and he refused to take him prisoner.”

”A poor half-Papist beggarman, sir,” replied Johnston, ”who was on his way to my uncle's to stop there for the night. Divil a scarecrow in Europe would exchange clothes with him without boot.”

Steen then related the circ.u.mstances with which our readers are acquainted, adding that he suggested to Johnston the necessity of sending a couple of men up with him to ascertain whether what, he said was true or not; but that he flatly refused to do so--and after some nonsense about a barn he let him off.

”I'll tell you what, sir,” said Johnston, ”I'll hunt a priest or a Papish that breaks the law with any man livin', but hang me if ever I'll hunt a harmless beggarman lookin' for his bit.”

At this period of the conversation the Red Rapparee, now in military uniform, entered the parlor, accompanied by some others of those violent men.

”Steen,” said the baronet, ”what or who do you suppose this ragged ruffian was?”

”Either a Rapparee, sir, or Reilly himself.”

”O'Donnel,” said he, addressing the Red Robber, ”what description of disguises do these villains usually a.s.sume? Do they often go about as beggarmen?”

”They may have changed their hand, sir, since I became a legal subject, but, before that, three-fourths of us--of them--the villains, I mane--went about in the shape of beggars.”

”That's important,” exclaimed the baronet. ”Steen, take half a dozen mounted men--a cavalry party have arrived here a little while ago, and are waiting further orders--I thought if Reilly had been secured it might have been necessary for them to escort him to Sligo. Well, take half a dozen mounted I men, and, as you very properly suggested, proceed with all haste to farmer Graham's, and see whether this mendicant is there or not; if he is there, take him into custody at all events, and if he is not, then it is clear he is a man for whom we ought to be on the lookout.”

”I should like to go with them, your honor,” said the Red Rapparee.

”O'Donnel,” said Sir Robert, ”I have other business for you to-night.”

”Well, plaise your honor,” said O'Donnel, ”as they're goin' in that direction, let them turn to the left after pa.s.sin' the little stranie that crosses the road, I mane on their way home; if they look sharp they'll find a little _boreen_ that--but indeed they'll scarcely make it out in the dark, for it's a good way back in the fields--I mane the cabin of widow Buckley. If there's one house more than another in the whole countryside where! Reilly is likely to take shelter in, that's it.

He gave her that cabin and a large garden free, and besides allows her a small yearly pension. But remember, you can't bring your horses wid you--you must lave some of the men to take charge of them in the _boreen_ till you come back. I wish you'd let me go with them, sir.”

”I cannot, O'Donnel; I have other occupation for you to-night.”

Three or four of them declared that they knew the cottage right well, and could find it out without much difficulty. ”They had been there,”

they said, ”some six or eight months before upon a priest chase.” The matter was so arranged, and the party set out upon their expedition.

It is unnecessary to say that these men had their journey for nothing; but at the same time one fact resulted from it, which I was, that the ragged mendicant they had met must have been some one well worth looking after. The deuce of it was, however, that, owing to the darkness of the night, there was not one among them who could have known Fergus the next day if they had met him. They knew, however, that O'Donnel, the Rapparee, was a good authority on the subject, and the discovery of the pretended mendicant's imposture was a proof of it. On this account, when they had reached the _boreen_ alluded to, on their return from Graham's, they came to the resolution of leaving their horses in charge, as had been suggested to them, and in silence, and with stealthy steps, pounce at once into the widow's cabin. Before they arrived there, however, we shall take the liberty of preceding them for a few minutes, and once more transport our readers to its bright but humble hearth.

About three hours or better had elapsed, and our two friends were still seated, maintaining the usual chat with Mrs. Buckley, who had finished her prayers and once, more rejoined them.

”Fergus, like a good fellow,” whispered Reilly, ”slip out for a minute or two; there's--a circ.u.mstance I wish to mention to Molly--I a.s.sure you it's of a very private and particular nature and only for her own ear.”

”To be sure,” replied Fergus; ”I want, at all events, to stretch my legs, and to see what the night's about.”

He accordingly left the cabin.

”Mrs. Buckley,” said Reilly, ”it was not for nothing I came here to-night. I have a favor to ask of you.”

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