his legs, asked the latter in a whisper who he was.

"By all that's happy, sir," he replied, "it's himself, the only man
living that the Red Rapparee is afraid of; it's 'Willy Reilly.'"

CHAPTER II. _The Cooleen Baum_.

The old man became very little wiser by the information of his servant,
and said in reply, "I hope, Andy, he's not a Papist;" but checking the
unworthy prejudice--and in him such prejudices were singularly strong in
words, although often feeble in fact he added, "it matters not--we owe
our lives to him--the deepest and most important obligation that one
man can owe to another. I am, however, scarcely able to stand; I feel
be-numbed and exhausted, and wish to get home as soon as possible."

"Mr. Reilly," said Andy, "this gentleman is very weak and ill; and as
you have acted so much like a brave man and a gentleman, maybe you'd
have no objection to see us safe home."

"It is my intention to do so," replied Reilly. "I could not for a moment
think of leaving either him or you to the mercy of this treacherous
man, who dishonors a noble name. Randal," he proceeded, addressing the
Rapparee, "mark my words!--if but a single hair of this gentleman's
head, or of any one belonging to him, is ever injured by you or your
gang, I swear that you and they will swing, each of you, from as many
gibbets, as soon as the course of the law can reach you. You know me,
sir, and my influence over those who protect you. As for you, Fergus,"
he added, addressing one of the Rapparee's followers, "you are, thank
God! the only one of my blood who has ever disgraced it by leading
such a lawless and guilty life. Be advised by me--leave that man of
treachery,rapine, and murder--abandon him and re-form your life--and if
you are disposed to become a good and an industrious member of society,
go to some other country, where the disgrace you have incurred in this
may not follow you. Be advised by me, and you shall not want the means
of emigrating. Now begone; and think, each of you, of what I have said."

The Rapparee glanced at the noble-looking young fellow with the
vindictive ferocity of an enraged bull, who feels a disposition
to injure you, but is restrained by terror; or, which is quite as
appropriate, a cowardly but vindictive mastiff, who eyes you askance,
growls, shows his teeth, but has not the courage to attack you.

"Do not look at me so, sir," said Reilly; "you know I fear you not."

"But the meantime," replied the