ng O'Donoghue," replied a half dozen voices together; "a
good warrant for courage or bravery any day."

"The O'Donoghue!" repeated Sir Marmaduke, vainly endeavouring in the
confusion of the moment to recall the name, and where he had heard it.

"Ay, the O'Donoghue," shouted a coarse voice near him, as a new figure
rode up on a small mountain pony. "It oughtn't to be a strange name in
these parts. Rouse yourself, Master Herbert, rouse up, my child--sure it
isn't a wettin' would cow you this way?"

"What! Kerry, is this you?" said the youth faintly, as he looked around
him with half-closed eyelids. "Where's my father?"

"Faix, he's snug at the parlour fire, my darlin', where his son ought
to be, if he wasn't turning guide on the mountains, to the enemy of his
kith and kin."

These words were said in a whisper, but with an energy that made the boy
start from the arms of those who bore him.

"Here's the pony, Master Herbert, get up on him, and be off at once;
sure there isn't a blackguard there, with lace on his coat, wouldn't be
laughing at your old clothes when the light comes."

Sir Marmaduke and his daughter were a few paces in advance as these
words were spoken, the old baronet giving directions for bestowing every
care and attention on one he deemed his guest.

The boy, ashamed and offended both, yielded to the counsel, and suffered
himself to be placed upon the saddle.

"Now, then, hould fast, and I'll guide him," said Kerry, as elbowing
the crowd right and left, he sprung forward at a run, and in less than a
minute had disappeared in the darkness.

Sir Marmaduke became distracted at the loss of his benefactor, and
message after message was despatched to bring him back, but all in vain;
Kerry and his pony had already gained so much in advance, none could
overtake them.

"To-morrow then, my child," said Sir Marmaduke, "to-morrow will, I
hope, enable me to speak my gratitude, though I shall not sleep well
to-night--I never rested with so heavy a debt unpaid before."

And with these words they slowly wended their way homeward.

CHAPTER VII. SIR ARCHY'S TEMPER TRIED

It was strange that, although the old man and his tender daughter should
have sustained no other ill results from their adventure, than the
terror which even yet dwelt on their minds, the young and vigorous
youth, well trained to every accident of flood or field, felt it most
seriously.

The exertions he made to overtake Sir Marmaduke