me to render assistance.

"Great heaven," exclaimed the priest, "is the young man, bad and wicked
as he is, to be murdered before our eyes by that gigantic idiot!"

He proceeded to the spot just when Raymond was about to repeat, in
reality, the imaginary scene with the pillow.

"Ho, ho," he shouted, "give us betther measure--a little more of
it--the same tongue never was your own friend, nor the friend of any one
else--ha, ha,--ho, ho, ho. There, that's one--take it out o' that, will
you?--whoo, hoo--hello, hach, ach!--This for White-head, and this for
Mary M'----"

"What's this, Raymond?" said Father Roche, gently laying his hand upon
his huge arm, the muscles of which, now strung into almost superhuman
strength, felt as hard as oak. "Stop, Raymond," he proceeded, "would you
like that work yourself, my good boy?"

"Father Roche!" said Raymond, relaxing his hold more from surprise than
anything else.

"If you will take your hand from his throat, Raymond, my good boy,
I will tell you where you will get a cock that no other bird in the
country could have a chance with. There's a good boy--let him go. Follow
me over here, and leave him."

"A cock that cannot be beat?" exclaimed Raymond, starting at once to his
feet, "no, but will you?"

"I will tell you where he is," said the priest, "but do not harm him
more," pointing to Phil,--"I only trust in God that it is not too late."
He stooped to examine Phil's countenance, and indeed the sight was as
strongly calculated to excite mirth as disgust. There he lay, his foul
tongue projecting out of his mouth, which was open and gasped for wind;
his huge goggle eyes, too, had their revolting squint heightened by
terror into an expression very like that assumed by a clown when he
squints and makes faces at the audience, whilst his whole countenance
was nearly black from excess of blood, and the veins about his forehead
and temples stood out swollen as if filled with ink.

"Aye, you may look at him," said Raymond--"he is apurty boy now,
countin' the stars there. A beauty you were, a beauty you are, and so I
leave you!"

"Come over," said Father Roche to O'Regan, "and see if you can render
him any assistance. You are stronger."

"Would he know me, do you think?" said O'Regan before he went over.

"At present, certainly not," replied Father Roche; "but he is breathing,
and in about eight or ten minutes I hope he will probably recover."

O'Regan went over, loosed his crava