as there met by Mr. Jones himself, who walked
up with him to the Castle. There was a short cut across the fields to
Mr. Jones's house; and as they left the road about a furlong up from
the pier, they were surrounded by the waters which Mr. Carroll had
let in upon the Ballintubber meadows.

"You won't mind my fellow coming with us?" said Captain Clayton.

"'Your fellow,' as you call him, is more than welcome. I came across
this way because some of Pat Carroll's friends may be out on the high
road. If they fire half-a-dozen rifles from behind a wall at your
luggage, they won't do so much harm as if they shot at yourself."

"There won't be any shooting here," said Clayton, shaking his head,
"he's not had time to get a stranger down and pay him. They always
require two or three days' notice for that work; and there isn't a
wall about the place. You're not giving Mr. Pat Carroll a fair chance
for his friends. I could dodge them always with perfect security by
myself, only the beaks up in Dublin have given a strict order. As
they pay for the pistols, I am bound to carry them." Then he lifted
up the lappets of his coat and waistcoat, and showed half-a-dozen
pistols stuck into his girdle. "Our friend there has got as many
more."

"I have a couple myself," said Mr. Jones, indicating their
whereabouts, and showing that he was not as yet so used to carry
them, as to have provided himself with a belt for the purpose.

Then they walked on, chatting indifferently about the Landleaguers
till they reached the Castle. "The people are not cowards," Captain
Clayton had said. "I believe that men do become cowards when they are
tempted to become liars by getting into Parliament. An Irishman of a
certain class does at any rate. But those fellows, if they were put
into a regiment, would fight like grim death. That man there," and he
pointed back over his shoulder, "is as brave a fellow as I ever came
across in my life. I don't think that he would hesitate a moment in
attacking three or four men armed with revolvers. And gold wouldn't
induce him to be false to me. But if Mr. Pat Carroll had by chance
got hold of him before he had come my way, he might have been the
very man to shoot you or me from behind a wall, with a bit of black
crape on his face. What's the reason of it? I love that man as my
brother, but I might have hated him as the very devil."

"The force of example, sir," said Mr. Jones, as he led the way into
the quiet, modern