s there--we all rode off at a fast trot to
Loughrea."

"And then?"

"We could do nothing but go home; the whole county seemed to be in a
ferment. At Loughrea we went away in our own directions, and poor Tom
with Barney Smith rode home to Ahaseragh. But not a word did he speak
to anyone, even to Barney; nor did Barney dare to speak a word to
him. He trotted all the way to Ahaseragh in moody silence, thinking
of the terrible ill that had been done him. I have known Tom for
twenty years, and I think that if he loves any man he loves me. But
he parted from me that day without a word."

"And then the kennels were set on fire?"

"Before I left Loughrea I heard the report, spread about everywhere,
that Tom Daly had recklessly ridden down three or four more poor
countrymen on the road. I knew then that some mischief would be in
hand. It was altogether untrue that he had hurt anyone. And he was
bound to interfere on behalf of his own servant. But when I heard
this morning that a score of men had been there in the night and had
burned the kennels to the ground, I was not surprised." Such was the
story that Frank Jones heard as to Tom Daly before he got home.

On reaching Ballyglunin he looked out for the carman, but he was not
there. Perhaps the interference with his task had banished him. Frank
went on to Tuam, which increased slightly the distance by road to
Morony. But at Tuam he found that Morony had in truth been boycotted.
He could not get a car for love or money. There were many cars there,
and the men would not explain to him their reasons for declining to
take him home; but they all refused. "We can't do it, Mr. Frank,"
said one man; and that was the nearest approach to an explanation
that was forthcoming. He walked into town and called at various
houses; but it was to no purpose. It was with difficulty that he
found himself allowed to leave his baggage at a grocer's shop, so
strict was the boycotting exacted. And then he too had to walk home
through Headford to Morony Castle.

When he reached the house he first encountered Peter, the butler.
"Faix thin, Mr. Frank," said Peter, "throubles niver comed in 'arnest
till now. Why didn't they allow Mr. Flory just to hould his pace and
say nothing about it to no one?"

"Why has all this been done?" demanded Frank.

"It's that born divil, Pat Carroll," whispered Peter. "I wouldn't be
saying it so that any of the boys or girls should hear me,--not for
my throat's sake.