d. "And doubtless Mr. Asgill
will accompany us, and lend the weight of his authority in the event of
any difficulty arising."

Asgill's countenance fell, and he looked the uncertainty he felt. He
was between two stools, for he had no mind to displease Flavia or
thwart her brother. At length, "No," he said, "I'll not be doing
anything in The McMurrough's absence--no, I don't see that I can do
that!"

Colonel John looked in the same strange fashion at Flavia. "I have
legal power to act, sir," he said, "as I can prove to you in private.
And that being so, I must certainly ask you to lend me the weight of
your authority."

"And I will be d----d if I do!" Asgill cried. There was a change in his
tone, and the reason was not far to seek. "Here's The McMurrough," he
continued, "and he'll say!"

They all turned and looked along the road which ran by the edge of the
lake. With James McMurrough, who was still a furlong away, were the two
O'Beirnes. They came slowly, and something in their bearing, even at
that distance, awoke anxiety.

"They're early from the cocking," Uncle Ulick muttered doubtfully, "and
sober as pigs! What's the meaning of that? There's something amiss, I'm
fearing."

A cry from Flavia proved the keenness of her eyes. "Where is Giralda?"
she exclaimed. "Where is the mare?"

"Ay, what have they done with the mare?" Uncle Ulick said in a tone of
consternation. "Have they lamed her, I'm wondering? The garron Morty's
riding is none of ours."

"I begged him not to take her!" Flavia cried, anger contending with her
grief. Giralda, her grey mare, ascribed in sanguine moments to the
strain of the Darley Arabian, and as gentle as she was spirited, was
the girl's dearest possession. "I begged him not to take her!" she
repeated, almost in tears. "I knew there was danger."

"James was wrong to take her up country," Uncle Ulick said sternly.

"They've claimed her!" Flavia wailed. "I know they have! And I shall
never recover her! I shall never see her again! Oh, I'd rather--I'd far
rather she were dead!"

Uncle Ulick lifted up his powerful voice. "Where's the mare?" he
shouted.

James McMurrough shrugged his shoulders, and a moment later the riders
came up and the tale was told. The three young men had halted at the
hedge tavern at Brocktown, where their road ran out of the road to
Tralee. There were four men drinking in the house, who seemed to take
no notice of them. But when The McMurrough and his compani