to make some very important revelations about himself and his master,
intimating that the "state of the country" was such that a man of his way
of thinking had no peace or quiet in it.

"That's him there, forenent ye," said Mickey, "and a better Protestant
never hated Mass. Ye understand."

"What!" said Billy, unbuttoning the collar of his coat to get a fairer view
at his companion; "why, I thought you were--"

Here he made some resemblance of the usual manner of blessing oneself.

"Me, devil a more nor yourself, Mr. Crow."

"Why, do you know me, too?"

"Troth, more knows you than you think."

Billy looked very much puzzled at all this; at last he said,--

"And ye tell me that your master there's the right sort?"

"Thrue blue," said Mike, with a wink, "and so is his uncles."

"And where are they, when they are at home?"

"In Galway, no less; but they're here now."

"Where?"

"Here."

At these words he gave a knock of his heel to the coach, as if to intimate
their "whereabouts."

"You don't mean in the coach, do ye?"

"To be sure I do; and troth you can't know much of the west, av ye don't
know the three Mr. Trenches of Tallybash!--them's they."

"You don't say so?"

"Faix, but I do."

"May I never drink the 12th of July if I didn't think they were priests."

"Priests!" said Mickey, in a roar of laughter,--"priests!"

"Just priests!"

"Be-gorra, though, ye had better keep that to yourself; for they're not the
men to have that same said to them."

"Of course I wouldn't offend them," said Mr. Crow; "faith, it's not me
would cast reflections upon such real out-and-outers as they are. And where
are they going now?"

"To Dublin straight; there's to be a grand lodge next week. But sure Mr.
Crow knows better than me."

Billy after this became silent. A moody revery seemed to steal over him;
and he was evidently displeased with himself for his want of tact in not
discovering the three Mr. Trenches of Tallybash, though he only caught
sight of their backs.

Mickey Free interrupted not the frame of mind in which he saw conviction
was slowly working its way, but by gently humming in an undertone the loyal
melody of "Croppies Lie Down," fanned the flame he had so dexterously
kindled. At length they reached the small town of Kinnegad. While the coach
changed horses, Mr. Crow lost not a moment in descending from the top, and
rushing into the little inn, disappeared for a few moments. When he again
issu