sh to know why, whisper," and she spoke so low as only barely
to be heard, "there's a meeting of Whiteboys to be here to-night;
anyhow, you're the friend of O'Driscol and Procthor Purcel, and that
same would be enough to make them give you a knock. Don't face home,"
said she, "or you'll be likely to meet them, but take the mountains wanst
more on your head. Get out upon the road at Altanaveenan and you may be
safe. God of Glory!" she exclaimed, "here they are--but watch my face
and be guided by me--here, throw yourself into that bed below and
pretend to sleep--I'll do what woman can, but I'm afeared we lost our
chance."

M'Carthy distinctly heard them laughing as they approached the door,
and, in accordance with the advice he had got, he went to the lower
part of the house and lay down on the bed, where he closed his eyes and
breathed like one asleep. He now began to investigate Mogue's conduct,
in persisting to bring him by so circuitous a sweep such a distance out
of his way, and decidedly contrary to his wishes. He hesitated, however,
to inculpate Mogue, who certainly could not have anticipated or brought
on the fog, which had occasioned them to wander for such a length of
time among the mountains. Then, on the other hand, he deprived him of
his gun and ammunition, but might not that also have been from motives
of kindness?

In the meantime, eight or ten men came into the house each and all with
their faces blackened, and some of them as before wearing shirts outside
their dress; and this he could see from the position of the bed where he
lay. The chat among themselves and with Mrs. Finnerty was not, as is the
case in romances, either mysterious or awful. On the contrary, it was
light and pleasant, and by no means calculated to heighten McCarthy's
fears; who, to say truth, however, although resolute and full of
courage, would as lief been spending the evening with his friend the
proctor.

"Well, Vread," said one of them, "any news in the mountains?"

"News in the mountains!" exclaimed Vread, "well, indeed, that's good."

"Any deaths or marriages among the grouse, eh?"

Vread, as we have said, had got a glass of spirits, a circumstance
which, to a low heart but a kind one like hers, may probably have
accounted for a portion of her energy, as well as of her sympathy with
the apprehended danger to M'Carthy.

"Troth," she replied, with more vivacity than might have been expected
from her, "when you spake to a dac