f, but unable from terror to speak aloud, or stir frozen
the spot.

"Here's two!" cried Kerry, still louder.

"I'm going!--I'm going! give me time to leave this blasted place; bad
luck to the day and the hour I ever saw it."

"It's too late," shouted Kerry. "Here's three!" and as he spoke bang
went the piece, and a shower of slugs and duck-shot came peppering
over the head and counter of the old pony; for in his fright, Roach
had fallen on his knees to pray. The wretched quadruped, thus rudely
saluted, gave a plunge and a kick, and then wheeled about with an
alacrity long forgotten, and scampered down the causeway with the old
gig at his heels, rattling as if it were coming in pieces. Kerry broke
into a roar of laughter, and screamed out--

"I'll give you another yet, begorra! that's only a true copy; but you'll
get the original now, you ould varmint!"

A heavy groan from the wretched doctor, as he sank in a faint, was the
only response; for in his fear he thought the contents of the piece were
in his body.

"Musha, I hope he isn't dead," said Kerry, as he opened the wicket
cautiously, and peeped out with a lantern. "Mister Cassidy--Mister
James, get up now--it's only joking I was.--Holy Joseph! is he kilt?"
and overcome by a sudden dread of having committed murder, Kerry stepped
out, and approached the motionless figure before him. "By all that's
good, I've done for the sheriff," said he, as he stood over the body.
"Oh! wirra, wirra! who'd think a few grains of shot would kill him."

"What's the matter here? who fired that shot?" said a deep voice, as
Mark O'Donoghue appeared at Kerry's side, and snatching the lantern,
held it down till the light fell upon the pale features of the doctor.

"I'm murdered! I'm murdered!" was the faint exclamation of old Roach.
"Hear me, these are my dying words, Kerry O'Leary murdered me."

"Where are you wounded? where's the ball?" cried Mark, tearing open the
coat and waistcoat in eager anxiety..

"I don't know, I don't know; it's inside bleeding I feel."

"Nonsense, man, you have neither bruise nor scar about you; you're
frightened, that's all. Come, Kerry, give a hand, and we'll help him
in."

But Kerry had fled; the idea of the gallows had just shot across his
mind, and he never waited for any further disclosures about his victim;
but deep in the recesses of a hay-loft he lay cowering in terror, and
endeavouring to pray. Meanwhile Mark had taken the half lifeless body