him, Flin?" asked one of the men as he came up.

"Sorrow wan o' me knows," returned the Irishman, wiping the perspiration
from his brow; "d'ye suppose I can see in the dark like the moles? All
I know is that half a dozen of ye have bin shoutin' `Here he is!' an'
another half-dozen, `No, he's here--this way!' an' sure I ran this way
an' then I ran that way--havin' a nat'ral disposition to obey orders,
acquired in the Louth Militia--an' then I ran my nose flat on a tree--
bad luck to it!--that putt more stars in me hid than you'll see in the
sky this night. Ah! ye may laugh, but it's truth I'm tellin'. See,
there's a blob on the ind of it as big as a chirry!"

"That blob's always there, Paddy," cried one of the men; "it's a
grog-blossom."

"There now, Peter, don't become personal. But tell me--ye've got him,
av coorse?"

"No, we haven't got him," growled Crossby.

"Well, now, you're a purty lot o' hunters. Sure if--"

"Come, shut up, Flinders," interrupted Gashford, swallowing his wrath.
(Paddy brought his teeth together with a snap in prompt obedience.) "You
know well enough that we haven't got him, and you know you're not sorry
for it; but mark my words, I'll hunt him down yet. Who'll go with me?"

"I'll go," said Crossby, stepping forward at once. "I've a grudge agin
the puppy, and I'll help to make him swing if I can."

Half a dozen other men, who were noted for leading idle and dissipated
lives, and who would rather have hunted men than nothing, also offered
to go, but the most of the party had had enough of it, and resolved to
return home in the morning.

"We can't go just now, however," said Crossby, "we'd only break our legs
or necks."

"The moon will rise in an hour," returned Gashford; "we can start then."

He flung himself down sulkily on the ground beside the fire and began to
fill his pipe. Most of the others followed his example, and sat
chatting about the recent escape, while a few, rolling themselves in
their blankets, resigned themselves to sleep.

About an hour later, as had been predicted, the moon rose, and Gashford
with his men set forth. But by that time the fugitive, groping his way
painfully with many a stumble and fall, had managed to put a
considerable distance between him and his enemies, so that when the
first silvery moonbeans tipped the tree-tops and shed a faint glimmer on
the ground, which served to make darkness barely visible, he had secured
a good start, and was a