, when he was suddenly struck
in the eyes with some icy liquid, that caused him to swerve violently
aside, dragging open the door at the same moment. There was a terrific
volley from the carriage, and Curly Cahill, receiving the greater portion
of the contents of the blunderbuss intended for his friend, dropped
heavily from his horse.

Rudd and Skelton instantly sprang out. They found Hewitt (for our readers,
no doubt, have anticipated it was he) engaged with their stalwart driver,
who had already grappled with him, having, before he could recover from
his shock, as well as surprise, by a well-directed blow knocked the pistol
from his hand, and closed with him. The man would have been no match for
Hewitt; but before the latter could draw another pistol, he was struck
down by Rudd, and, with the powerful assistance of Skelton, handcuffed,
and secured in the chaise.

The travellers, who had come determined and prepared for this
expedition,[28] now struck a light, and proceeded to raise Cahill, who
continued to groan heavily where he had fallen. He seemed to bleed
inwardly, having been wounded chiefly in the chest and stomach, and was
lifted into the carriage beside his captured companion, and where he
almost instantly expired, having squandered his last breath in a feeble
laugh, and the expression of his conviction, that "the Capting was
cashiered at last."

The travellers now hurried rapidly onwards, conveying with them
Sally-the-tin, whom, having been benighted on her return from some
country-fair, the driver (an old acquaintance) had overtaken and given a
lift to on the bar beside himself, and whose elemental piety, for once not
ill-timed, was the means of saving Hewitt's exit. Leaving Cahill's body at
the very roadside-hut where he had so lately planned his villanous
revenge, they continued their course to Clogheen; and being informed that
the nearest magistrate was the rector of the parish, about nine o'clock at
night they entered Mr Tyrrel's parlour, where, though still suffering
under her father's suspicions, Katey was presiding at the tea-table to
Lysaght and his uncle, and begged to introduce to the Reverend Justice's
notice, the person who accompanied them--the dreaded and notorious
freebooter, Roderick O'Hanlon, who had been so many months the terror of
all who travelled Kilworth mountains--and who, on a previous occasion, had
been ushered, in an imaginary way, to his acquaintance as Major Fergus
Hewitt, com