one
man, the estate gets into Chancery; and then it's nobody's affair who
pays and who does not. Tenants then have as mach right as the landlord
used to have. As the rents have no owner, there's little trouble taken
to collect them; and when any one makes a bold stand and refuses to pay,
they let him alone, and just turn upon the others that are easier to
deal with."

"That's the way it used to be here long ago," said Keane.

"Precisely so. You remember it yourself, before Mr. Cashel's time; and
so it might be again, if he should try any harsh measures with those
Drumcoologan fellows. Let me light my cigar from your pipe, Keane," said
he; and, as he spoke, he laid down the pistol which he had still
carried in his hand. Keane's eyes rested on the handsome weapon with an
expression of stern intensity.

"Cashel would think twice of going up to that mountain barony to-morrow,
if he but knew the price that lies upon his head. The hundreds of acres
that to-day are a support to as many people, and this day twelvemonth,
perhaps, may lie barren and waste; while the poor peasants that once
settled there have died of hunger, or wander friendless and houseless
in some far-away country--and all this to depend on the keen eye and the
steady hand of any one man brave enough to pull a trigger!"

"Is he going to Drumcoologan to-morrow?" asked Keane, dryly.

"Yes; he is to meet Kennyfeck there, and go over the property with him,
and on Tuesday evening he is to return here. Perhaps I may be able to
put in another word for you, Tom, but I half fear it is hopeless."

"'T is a lonely road that leads from Sheehan's Mill to the ould
churchyard," said Keane, more bent upon following out his own fancies
than in attending to Linton.

"So I believe," said Linton; "but Mr. Cashel cares little for its
solitude; he rides always without a servant, and so little does he fear
danger, that he never goes armed."

"I heard that afore," observed Tom, significantly.

"I have often remonstrated with him about it," said Linton. "I 've said,
'Remember how many there are interested in your downfall. One bullet
through your forehead is a lease forever, rent free, to many a man
whose life is now one of grinding poverty.' But he is self-willed and
obstinate. In his pride, he thinks himself a match for any man--as if
a rifle-bore and a percussion-lock like that, there, did not make the
merest boy his equal! Besides, he will not bear in mind that his is a