t or Confederate or
Parliament man.

Nuala O'Malley was a woman of blood, said Brian to himself, and he would
give her blood for her help.

So he curtly refused Turlough's advice, saw that the ten bridles of his
bound and mounted captives were lined together, and beckoned to
Cathbarr. Before they rode off, however, they doffed their Scot
accouterments and took back their own garments, after which Cathbarr led
the way over the hills to Kilkieran Bay, and Turlough took command of
the force in sullen ill-humor.

The morning was still young, for the attack had taken place a short two
hours after sunrise and had soon been quelled. Beyond a slashed thigh
and a red-creased neck, Cathbarr of the Ax was unhurt, and Brian had
received no scratch. If the ten captives wondered why they were bound
and their comrades freed, they said nothing of it.

Even after seeing what he had of the merciless war in Ireland, Brian had
much ado in making up his mind to hold to the plan he had formed on the
previous evening. These ten ruffians were scoundrels enough, to judge by
looks, and yet they were men; and he had been raised in no such school
of war as this, where surrender meant slaughter without pity. However,
he determined to do what he could for them, and he would have held to
this determination had it not been for what chanced when they rode down
to the little fishing village where Turlough had met the O'Malley men.

They arrived just as the evening was darkling, after a hard day's ride.

As they came within sight of the place, which lay at the head of
Kilkieran water, Brian made out that a small galley was pulled up on
shore, and there were a number of men about the huts. Upon the approach
of the two chiefs with their file of captives there was an instant
scurry of figures; women ran to the huts, and a dozen or more roughly
clad men appeared with pikes and muskets. Brian held up his hand in sign
of peace and rode slowly onward, Cathbarr at his side, to within a dozen
paces of the huts.

"Who are you?" cried out one of the musketeers. "Be off!"

"Bark less, dog," said Brian, scorn in his eye. "We seek Nuala O'Malley.
Take us out to Gorumna Isle in your boat."

"What seek ye with the Bird Daughter?" queried the other suspiciously.

"Her business, not yours."

The seamen gazed at them doubtfully, then a number of other men came
from the huts, well-armed. One of these set up a cry, pointing at the
captives, and a burst of yells