uthority with half the swagger which
he did when three quarters gone. Steen and he were never friends, nor
indeed was Steen ever a popular man among his acquaintances. In matters
of trade and business he was notoriously dishonest, and in the moral
and social relations of life, selfish, uncandid, and treacherous.
The sergeant, on the other hand, though an out-spoken and flaming
anti-Papist in theory, was, in point of fact, a good friend to his Roman
Catholic neighbors, who used to say of him that his bark was worse than
his bite.

When his party had passed on, Fergus stood for a moment uncertain as
to where he should direct his steps. He had not long to wait, however.
Reilly, who had no thoughts of abandoning him to the mercy of the
military, without at least knowing his fate, nor, we may add, without
a firm determination to raising his tenantry, and rescuing the generous
fellow at every risk, immediately sprung across the ditch and joined
him.

"Well, Fergus," said he, clasping his hand, "I heard everything, and I
can tell you that every nerve in my body trembled whilst you were among
them."

"Why," said Fergus, "I knew them at once by their voices, and only that
I changed my own as I did I won't say but they'd have nabbed me."

"The test of the barn was frightful; I thought you were gone; but you
must explain that."

"Ay, but before I do," replied Fergus, "where are we to go? Do you still
stand for widow Buckley's?"

"Certainly, that woman may be useful to me."

"Well, then, we may as well jog on in that direction, and as we go I
will tell you."

"How then did you come to describe the barn--or rather, was your
description correct?"

"Ay, as Gospel. You don't know that by the best of luck and providence
of God, I was two years and a half an inside laborer with Mr. Graham. As
is usual, all the inside men-servants slept, wintrier and summer, in the
barn; and that accounts for our good fortune this night. Only for that
scoundrel, Steen, however, the whole thing would not have signified
much; but he's a black and deep villain that. Nobody likes him but his
brother scoundrel, Whitecraft, and he's a favorite with him, bekaise
he's an active and unscrupulous tool in his hands. Many a time, when
these men--military-militia-yeomen, or whatever they call them, are sent
out by this same Sir Robert, the poor fellows don't wish to catch what
they call the unfortunate Papish-es, and before they come to the house
they'll