wouldn't assist you in this consarn, afther
your cowardly behaver to this poor girl. Takin' away the Bodagh's
daughter was another thing; you had betther let the girl go home."

Biddy had now recovered, and heard this suggestion with joy, for the
poor girl began to entertain serious apprehensions of Flanagan's revenge
and violence, if left alone with him; she could not speak, however, and
those who bore her, quickened their pace at his desire, as much as they
could.

"No," said Bartle, artfully, "I'll keep her prisoner anyhow for
this night. I had once a notion of marryin' her--an' may be--as I am
disappointed in the other--but we'll think of it. Now we're at the
horses and we'll get an faster."

This was indeed true.

After the journey we have just described, they at length got out of
the boreen, where, in the corner of a field, a little to the right, two
horses, each saddled, were tied to the branch of a tree. They now made
a slight delay until their charge should be got mounted, and were
collected in a group on the road, when a voice called out, "Who goes
there?"

"A friend to the guard."

"Good morrow!"

"Good morrow mornin' to you!"

"What Age are you in?"

"The end of the fifth."

"All right," said Bartle, aloud; "now, boys," he whispered to his own
party, "we must tell them good-humoredly to pass on--that this is a
runaway--jist a girl we're bringin' aff wid us, an' to hould a hard
cheek (*To keep it secret) about it. You know we'd do as much for them."

Both parties now met, the strangers consisting of about twenty men.

"Well, boys," said the latter, "what's the fun?"

"Devil a thing but a girl we're helpin' a boy to take away. What's your
own sport?"

"Begorra, we wor in luck to-night; we got as party a double-barrelled
gun as ever you seen, an' a case of murdherin' fine--pistols."

"Success, ould heart! that's right; we'll be able to stand a tug whin
the 'Day' comes."

"Which of you is takin' away the girl, boys?" inquired one of the
strangers.

"Begad, Bartle Flanagan, since there's no use in hidin' it, when we're
all as we ought to be."

"Bartle Flanagan!" said a voice--"Bartle Flanagan, is it? An' who's the
girl?"

"Blur an' agres, Alick Nulty, don't be too curious, she comes from
Bodagh Buie's."

Biddy, on hearing the voice of her brother, made another violent
effort, and succeeded in partially working the gag out of her mouth--she
screamed faintly, and struggled with such en