traw
hat, which was fortunate, for, being in reality the leader of the party,
it was well that his costume should accord with that responsible and
dignified position. They had no weapons of any kind, so their first
care was to supply themselves with stout cudgels, which each cut in
proportion to his notions of the uses and capacities of such
implements--that of Larry O'Hale being, of course, a genuine shillelah,
while the weapon cut by Muggins was a close imitation of the club of
Hercules, or of that used by the giant who was acquainted with the
celebrated giant-killer named Jack!

"Now, boys, if we're goin' to ait and slaip, the sooner we set about it
the better," observed Larry, rising and commencing to collect sticks for
a fire. The others immediately followed his example, and in a few
minutes a bright blaze illuminated the dark recesses of the tangled
forest, while myriads of sparks rose into and hung upon the leafy canopy
overhead. There was something cheering as well as romantic in this. It
caused the wanderers to continue their work with redoubled vigour. Soon
a fire that would have roasted an ox whole roared and sent its forked
tongues upwards. In the warm blaze of it they sat down to their
uncommonly meagre supper of half a biscuit and a small bit of cheese
each--which was washed down by a draught from a neighbouring stream.

They had finished this, and were in the act of lighting their pipes,
when a roar echoed through the woods which caused them to pause in their
operations and glance uneasily at each other.

"Sure, it's a tiger!" exclaimed Larry.

"There's no tigers in them parts," said Muggins.

"I don't know that, lad," observed Old Peter.

"I've hear'd that there are jaguars an' critters o' that sort, which is
as big and as bad as tigers, an' goes by the name, but p'raps--"

Old Peter's observations were here cut short by the loud report of a gun
close at hand. As if by instinct every man leaped away from the light
of the fire and sheltered himself behind a tree. For some time they
stood listening eagerly to every sound, but no foe appeared, nor was
there a repetition of the shot. The longer they listened the more
inclined were they to believe that their senses had deceived them, and
Larry O'Hale's heart was beginning to make a troublesome attack on his
ribs, as he thought of ghosts--especially foreign ghosts--when all eyes
were attracted to a human form which appeared to flit to and fro a