"I am not without means of defence," replied Reilly, "but the exercise
of such means would be useless. Two of your lives I might take; but
yours, Mr. Sheriff, could not be one of them, and that you must feel."

"I feel, Mr. Reilly, that you are a man of honor; and, in point of fact,
there is ample apology for your conduct in the exquisite beauty of the
young lady who accompanies you; but I must also feel for her father,
whose bereavement, occasioned by her loss, would most assuredly break
his heart."

Here a deep panting of the bosom, accompanied by violent sobs, was heard
by the party, and _Cooleen Bawn_ whispered to Reilly, in a voice nearly
stifled by grief and excitement:

"Dear Reilly, I love you; but it was madness in us to take this step;
let me return to my father--only let me see him safe?"

"But Whitecraft?"

"Death sooner. Reilly, I am ill, I am ill; this struggle is too much for
me. What shall I do? My head is swimming."

[Illustration: PAGE 140--discharged a pistol at our hero]

She had scarcely uttered these words when her father, accompanied by his
servants, dashed rapidly up, and Cummiskey, the old huntsman, instantly
seized Reilly, exclaiming, "Mr. Reilly, we have you now;" and whilst
he spoke, his impetuous old master dashed his horse to one side,
and discharged a pistol at our hero, and this failing, he discharged
another. Thanks to Lanigan, however, they were both harmless, that
worthy man having forgotten to put in bullets, or even as much powder as
would singe an ordinary whisker.

"Forbear, sir," exclaimed the sheriff, addressing Cummiskey; "unhand Mr.
Reilly. He is already in custody, and you, Mr. Folliard, may thank God
that you are not a murderer this night. As a father, I grant that an
apology may be made for your resentment, but not to the shedding of
blood."

"Lanigan! villain! treacherous and deceitful villain!" shouted the
squire, "it was your perfidy that deprived me of my revenge. Begone, you
sneaking old profligate, and never let me see your face again. You did
not load my pistols as you ought."

"No, sir," replied Lanigan, "and I thank God that I did not. It wasn't
my intention to see your honor hanged for murder."

"Mr. Folliard," observed the sheriff, you ought to bless God that
gave you a prudent servant, who had too much conscience to become the
instrument of your vengeance. Restrain your resentment for the present,
and leave Mr. Reilly to the laws of his country. W