somewhat more ambiguously, I 'm afraid, than
consisted with perfect candor--of the cause they were going to fight
for. He made the most of those magical words so powerful to the Celtic
heart,--oppression, cruelty, injustice; he imparted a touch of repeal
to the struggle before them; and when once pressed hard by Rory with the
home question, "Which side is the Holy Father?" he roughly answered, "I
don't think he has much to say to it one way or other."

"Faix, I 'm ashamed of myself," said Rory, flushing up; "and I ought to
know that what's good enough for your honor to fight for is too good for
me."

They drained the last glasses of their flask in pledge of their compact,
and, resolving to keep their resting-time for the sultry heat of the
day, started by the clear starlight for Genoa.

CHAPTER LI. A PIECE OF GOOD TIDINGS

It was about a week after this event when Sam M'Grader received a few
lines from Tony Butler, saying that he was to sail that morning with a
detachment for Garibaldi. They were bound for Marsala, and only hoped
that they might not be caught by the Neapolitan cruisers which were said
to swarm along the coast. "I suppose," he writes, "there's plenty of
'fight' amongst us; but we are more picturesque than decent-looking; and
an honest countryman of mine, who has attached himself to my fortunes,
tells me in confidence that 'they 're all heathens, every man of them.'
They are certainly a wild, dare-devil set, whom it will be difficult
to reduce to any discipline, and, I should fear, impossible to restrain
from outrage if occasion offers. We are so crowded that we have only
standing-room on deck, and those below are from time to time relieved
in squads, to come up and breathe a little fresh air. The suffering from
heat and thirst was bad yesterday, but will, perhaps, be less at sea,
with a fresh breeze to cool us. At all events, no one complains. We
are the jolliest blackguards in the world, and going to be killed in a
better humor with life than half the fine gentlemen feel as they wake in
the morning to a day of pleasure.

"I shall be glad when we put foot on land again; for I own I 'd rather
fight the Neapolitans than live on in such close companionship with my
gallant comrades. If not 'bowled' over, I 'll write to you within a week
or two. Don't forget me.--Yours ever,

"Tony Butler."

M'Gruder was carefully plodding his way through this not very legible
document, exploring it with a zeal th