brow, he sprang into his saddle once more.

The bright blaze enabled him to see the party in front, and, while he
himself escaped all observation, to devise his plans at leisure. He
advanced, therefore, at a slow walk, keeping the horse's feet in the
deep ground, where no noise was made. He counted seven figures around
the fire, and two as sentinels, and suspected at once that the whole
party was not there. Still there was no other chance. To attempt the
mountain would delay him a day at least, and a day now was a life-time.
Creeping noiselessly forward, he came within a few yards of the
outposts, and could distinctly hear the voices as they talked together.
He halted for a second or two, and looked back down the glen. It was an
involuntary action, for even had all not been dark around him, his home,
to which he wished to bid a last adieu, was out of sight.

A cannon-shot rung out at the instant, and, taking it for a signal, Mark
reined in his horse sharply, and then, dashing the spurs to his sides,
made him plunge madly forward, and, with the bound, shot through the
space between the two sentinels, each of whom presented, but feared to
fire, lest he should injure his comrade.

[Illustration: 462]

"Come on--follow me!" cried Mark, waving his hand as if encouraging
others on, and the action turned every look down the glen, in the
direction from whence he came, and whence now came a wild, shrill yell,
the most savage and appalling.

"Fire!--down with him!--fire!" shouted the soldiers to one another, as
Mark, leaning fiat on his horse's main, rode on; and the balls whistled
quick, above and around, but not one struck him. "After him, Jack--after
him!" cried one of the sentinels, who, perceiving that Mark was not
followed, turned his horse to the pursuit; but another yell, wilder than
the first, arrested him, and he heard a voice screaming, "This way,
boys, this way--we have them here!" and Terry, waving his cap, bounded
forward, and called out unceasingly for others to come on. In an instant
the whole attention was turned to the front, while with the stroke of a
sabre poor Terry was stretched upon the ground, bleeding and senseless.

"It is only that cursed fool we used to see at Macroom, about the
barrack gates," said one of the dragoons, as he held a piece of lighted
wood beside his face, "and the other fellow cannot have had much more
sense, or he would never have tried to ride through a squadron of horse.
But th