to gow after him. What do you
imagine that beast was after, coming up the hill towards Muggins?"

"I think he was coming to overpower you, Mr. Perrowne, and bring all
our forces to your aid, while the fellow behind him slipped in and fired
the house or did some similar mischief."

"I tell you, Mr. Nash, he'd have had my two barrels first, and I'm a
pretty fair shot, down't you know? But, look here, it's dry work
mounting guard, sow I'll have another pull at the tankard."

The Squire came in from guard mounting, somewhat fatigued. He had been
on the stretch mentally and physically ever since the Captain's arrival.
"You had better go to bed, grandfather, and take Thomas with you," he
said to the veteran.

"Not a wink this blissid noight, Squoire," replied Mr. Terry, "the smill
av the powther has put new loife into my owld carcash. The Captin can go
iv he plazes."

"Avast, there! I say, messmate," growled Captain Thomas, "I don't run
this mill, but my youngster's here under hatches, and I'm a goin' to
keep watch on, watch off along of any other man. I don't think that o'
yours is half up to the mark, Mr. Terry."

"Oi was thinkin' I was a bit wake mysilf," replied the old soldier,
filling up his glass, and handing the decanter to his neighbour, who
likewise improved the occasion.

"Oi'm suppawsin now, sorr," continued the veteran, addressing the
dominie, "that this is yer first apparance on shintry."

"You are right, Mr. Terry, in your supposition."

"An', sorr, it's a cridit to yeez to be shtandin' an' facin' the inimy
wid divel a thing in yer hand but a pishtil. Oi moind a big sthrappin'
liftinant av ours was called Breasel, an' sid he was discinded from the
great Breasel Breck av Oirish hishtry. Wan noight he was slapin', whin
four nagurs av Injuns kim into his tint, an' picked the sword an'
pishtils and the unifarm aff the bid he was on. Thin he woke up, an' him
havin' sorra a thing to difind himself wid but a good Oirish tongue in
his hid. But it's Tipperary the liftinant foired at the haythens, an' it
moight ha' been grape an' canister, for they dhropped the plundher and
run for loife, all but wan that got howlt av an anhevis drawin' plashter
the liftinant had for a bile an the back av his neck, an' wasn't usin'
at the toime. Someways the plashter got on to his nakid chist an'
gripped him, an' he was that wake wid froight, the other nagurs had to
carry him away. Afther that the Injuns called Breasel by the