e all right," said Persse, nodding his head; and so the
_cortege_ passed on. But not a word was spoken by Daly himself,
either then or afterwards, except a whispered order or two given to
Barney Smith. Moytubber is a gorse covert lying about three hundred
yards from the road, and through it the horsemen always passed; on
other occasions it was locked. Now the gate had been taken off its
hinges and thrown back upon the bank; and Daly, as he passed into the
field, perceived that the covert was surrounded by a crowd.

CHAPTER XI.

MOYTUBBER.

"What's all this about?" said Tom as he rode up the covert side,
and addressing a man whose face he happened to know. He was one Kit
Mooney, a baker from Claregalway, who in these latter days had turned
Landleaguer. But he was one who simply thought that his bread might
be better buttered for him on that side of the question. He was not
an ardent politician; but few local Irishmen were so. Had no stirring
spirits been wafted across the waters from America to teach Irishmen
that one man is as good as another, or generally better, Kit Mooney
would never have found it out. Had not his zeal been awakened by the
eloquence of Mr. O'Meagher, the member for Athlone, who had just made
a grand speech to the people at Athenry, Kit Mooney would have gone
on in his old ways, and would at this moment have been touching his
hat to Tom Daly, and whispering to him of the fox that had lately
been seen "staling away jist there, Mr. Daly, 'fore a'most yer very
eyes." But Mr. O'Meagher had spent three glorious weeks in New York,
and, having practised the art of speaking on board the steamer as he
returned, had come to Athenry and filled the mind of Kit Mooney and
sundry others with political truth of the deepest dye. But the gist
of the truths so taught had been chiefly this:--that if a man did not
pay his rent, but kept his money in his pocket, he manifestly did
two good things; he enriched himself, and he so far pauperised the
landlord, who was naturally his enemy. What other teaching could be
necessary to make Kit understand,--Kit Mooney who held twenty acres
of meadow land convenient to the town of Claregalway,--that this
was the way to thrive in the world? "Rent is not known in America,
that great and glorious country. Every man owns the fields which he
cultivates. Why should you here allow yourself to be degraded by the
unmanly name of tenants? The earth which supports you should be as
f