e the sowl o' the man that 's
dyin' I 'll dhrive a ball through ye." The sight of a pistol barrel
seemed at last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a low
wailing kind of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage.

The cold air of the street and the rest combined had given me strength,
and I was able to follow Darby as he led the way through many a passage
and up more than one stair.

"Here it is," said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the door
of a room which lay half ajar.

We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man whose
short, sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, denoted the near approach
of death.

"Go on," cried a deep, low voice, in a tone of eagerness; "ye 'll not
have the cough now for some time."

The sick man made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to show
that he was making some unwonted effort.

At last he spoke, but in a voice so faint and husky, we could not
hear the words. The other, however, appeared to listen, and by a stray
monosyllable, dropped at intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech.
At last the sound ceased, and all was still.

"Go in now," said Darby, in a whisper, to the child; "I 'll follow you."

The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by M'Keown,
who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as if doubting
what reception he should meet with.

By the uncertain light of a wood fire, which threw in fitful flashes
its glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking,
miserable bed in one corner of a dark room; beside him, seated on a low
stool, sat another, his head bent down to catch the low breathings which
the dying man gave forth from time to time. The heavy snoring sound of
others asleep directed my eyes to a distant part of the chamber, where I
saw three fellows lying on the floor, partly covered by a blanket. I
had barely time to see this much, when the figure beside the bed sprang
forward, and in a low but menacing tone, addressed M'Keown.

The last words only could I catch, as he said, "And if he wakes up, he
may know you still."

"And if he does," said Darby, doggedly, "who cares? Isn't there as good
blood as his shed for the cause? Look here!"

He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat, pointed to
the sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed at every stir
from my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a second or two, took
m