sowned her when I came
out here to throw meself into the arrums of the brave, suffering,
pathriotic race around me, and placed my sword at their service."
"Then you are a soldier, I presume?" said my father.
"I was tin years in the arrmy, sor," said our visitor, drawing himself
up and clapping his hand upon his chest. "Look at thim," he continued,
pointing to his followers drawn up in line. "A part of my following,
and as fine irrigular cavalry as ever threw leg over saddle.--Look here,
young man, ye're in luck, for ye'll have the honour of serving in
Captain Eustace Moriarty's troop."
"You are Captain Eustace Moriarty?" said my father.
"I am, sor."
"Then I must tell you, sir," said my father, "that though I have taken
up land here and made it my home, I claim my rights as an Englishman not
to make myself a traitor by taking up arms against my Queen."
"A thraitor!" cried the captain. "Bah! That for the Queen;" and he
snapped his fingers. "But ye're not asked to serve now. That can wait
till ye're wanted. It's the bhoy we want, and maybe after a bit it'll
be you."
"My son thinks as I do," said my father sternly.
"Does he, now?" said the captain mockingly. "Then I shall have to
tache him to think as I do, and it won't take long. D'ye hear me,
bhoy?"
"I hear what you say, sir," I replied. "Of course I think as my father
does, and I refuse to serve against England."
"I expected it," said the man, with cool insolence. "It's what I
expected from a young Saxon. But look here, me bhoy; ye've got to
serrve whether ye like it or whether ye don't. What's more, ye've got
to come at once. So get yer horse, and clap the saddle on. Fetch him
his rifle and his cartridge-bolt, and let there be no more nonsense."
"You heard what my son said, sir," said my father haughtily. "If it
were against a black enemy of the country we should both be willing."
"Didn't I tell ye it was again' a black inimy?" said the man mockingly.
"I heard you insult the Queen and her Government, sir," said my father;
"and, once more, my son refuses to serve."
"The coward!--the white-livered cub!" cried the captain contemptuously.
"What!" I cried, springing forward; but my father flung his hand across
my chest, and Bob rushed in past Aunt Jenny, as if to take refuge from
the scene.
"Quite right, old man," said the captain, coolly stroking his beard.
"And look here, bhoy whether ye like it or not, ye're a sojer now;
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