, and there are thousands of Irish who would
be horrified at the thought of taking the life of a fellow-creature, but
such deeds are too common in that country. The reason why this is so I
must leave to others who ought to know more about the matter than I do,
to say. It must be remembered that Shane had already tried his hand at
the work, so that I did not think ill of him without cause. Whenever I
had spare time I went to see the O'Neils. When I went away at night, I
walked quickly along in the middle of the road, feeling pretty sure that
Shane would try to treat me as he did Marshall.

I had, I should say, soon after I came to the place, picked a poor boy
out of a pond, when more than half drowned, and carried him home; and as
I found the family very poor and wretched, I left some money with them.
As I never spent any money in liquor or other folly, I had always a few
spare shillings in my pocket. Pat Nolan's mother, as far as words went,
seemed very grateful, but I never put much trust in them: and though I
had several times gone to see the Nolans, I scarcely thought about what
first took me to the cottage.

One day I had been sent by my captain with a letter to a house three
miles off. I was kept there some time, and it was nearly dark when, on
my way back, I came to a wild, open place, half common and half bog,
with nearly a mile of road across it. Just as I got to a small bush
near the road, I heard a voice say, "Hist, hist, soldier; turn back and
come with me. It's a long way I'll be after taking ye, but it's better
than being shot any how."

"Who are you, and where are you?" I asked, seeing no one.

"It's me, Pat Nolan, then," answered the ragged little urchin, creeping
from under the bush. "May be he's not far off just now, with that thief
of the world, Dan Fegan, and one or two others looking out for ye."

I was half inclined to go on in spite of Pat's warning. "Why should I
be afraid of those Irish chaps?" I thought to myself. But little Pat
begged so hard that I would not, that I began to think it would be wise
to follow his advice.

"Och ahone! ahone! you'll be kilt entirely if you go now!" exclaimed the
boy, crying and pulling at me to go in the direction he wanted.

I felt that it would be foolish to run into danger for no purpose, and
that at all events I should have only rather a longer walk than I had
expected. "Well, Pat, I'll go with you," said I.

The little chap gave a leap w