eard, medley of several voices in the next room, all
engaged in an earnest conversation, as was evident, not merely from the
disjointed manner of their pronunciation but a strong smell of liquor
which assailed his nose. His first impulse was to arise and escape by
the window, but on reflection, as he saw by the light of their candle
that the door between the two apartments was open, he deemed it safer
to keep quiet for a little, with a hope that they might soon take their
departure. He felt anxious, besides, to ascertain whether the party
in question consisted of those whom the strange guide had mentioned as
being his enemies. In the meantime, the following agreeable dialogue
greeted his ears and banished for the moment every other thought and
consideration.

"It was altogether a bad business this night. He was as well set as man
could be, but hell pursue the pistols, they both missed fire; and thim
that did go off hit the wrong men. The same two--we can't names boys,
won't be the betther of it for some time. We met them, you see, in the
mountains, where we wor goin' on a little business. Here's that we may
never ait worse mait than mutton!"

"More power, Dick--Dick, (hiccup) you're a trojan, an' so was your
father and mother afore you; here's your to--toast, Dick, that we
may ever an' always ait no worse mait than--praties an' point,
hurra!--that's the chat, ha!--ha!--ha!--ah, begad it's we that's the
well-fed boys--ay, but sure our friends the poor parsons has been always
starvin' in the counthry."

"Always starvin' the counthry!" exclaimed another, playing upon the
word, "be my sowl you're right there, Ned. Well sure they're gettin' a
touch of it now themselves; by japers, some o' them knows what it is to
have the back and belly brought together, or to go hungry to bed, as the
sayin' is; but go on, Dick, an' tell us how it was."

"Why, you see, we went back when we heard that the house was to be
attacked, and only he escaped the way he did, it wouldn't be attacked;
howaniver, you know it's wid O'Driscol--a short cooser to him, too, and
he'll get it--it's wid O'Driscol he stops. So off we went, and waited in
Barney Broghan's still-house, where we had a trifle to dhrink."

"Divil resave the bet--bettherer spirits ever came from--a still--il
eye, nor dar-lent Bar--ar--ney Brogh--aghan makes--whisht!--more
power!--won't the counthry soon--be our--our--own--whips!"

"Ned, hould your tongue, an' let him go 'an; well,