slept a long time," he said, sitting up.

"You have had a fine sleep, surely," one of the men replied; "and it's
dinner and supper, all in one, that you will have."

Walter found his uniform and underclothes neatly folded up by his side,
and speedily dressed himself.

"That sleep has done me a world of good," he said. "I feel quite myself
again."

"That's right, yer honour. When you've had your food, I will make a shift
to dress that wound at the back of yer head. Be jabbers, it's a hard
knock you have had, and a mighty lot of blood you must have lost! Yer
clothes was just stiff with it; but I washed most of it out.

"And now, lads, off with the pot!"

A large pot was hanging over the fire, and, when the lid was taken off, a
smell very pleasant to Walter's nostrils arose. Four flat pieces of wood
served the purpose of plates, and, with a large spoon of the same
material, the man who had brought Walter to the hut, and who appeared to
be the leader of the party, ladled out portions of the contents. These
consisted of rabbit and pieces of beef, boiled up with potatoes and
onions. A large jug filled with water, and a bottle of spirits were
placed in the centre, with the horn which Walter had before used beside
it.

"We are short of crockery," the man said with a laugh. "Here are some
knives, but as for forks, we just have to do without them."

Walter enjoyed his meal immensely. After it was finished, the wooden
platters were removed, and the jug replenished.

"Now, your honour, will you tell us how you got away from the Protestant
rebels, and how was it they didn't make short work of you, when they
caught you? It's a puzzle to us entirely, for the Enniskilleners spare
neither man, woman, nor child."

Walter related the whole circumstances of his capture, imprisonment, and
escape.

"You fooled them nicely," the man said, admiringly. "Sure your honour's
the one to get out of a scrape--and you little more than a boy."

"And what are you doing here?" Walter asked, in return. "This seems a
wild place to live in."

"It's just that," the man said. "We belonged to Kilbally. The
Enniskilleners came that way, and burned it to the ground. They murdered
my wife and many another one. I was away cutting peat with my wife's
brother here. When we came back, everything was gone. A few had escaped
to the bogs, where they could not be followed; the rest was, every
mother's son of them, killed by those murdering villains. Your