poor fellows had been sheep, and the ruffians hungry and in want of
mutton. They didn't seem to think that they had done a cruel action; and
when the younger female, whose name was Betsey Trueman, shed bitter
tears at her loss, the brutes jested at her grief, and promised to
supply his place with a fresher and more active husband. They couldn't
understand why a woman should mourn for one man when there were others
ready to take his place.

"The onfeeling wretches," Nancy said, concluding her story, "they had
the impudence to put their hands not only in Betsey's pocket, but mine,
too. I boxed the puppy's ears, and he had to bear it, although he did
draw his knife and threaten to cut me to pieces. I wish that my old man
had been there when he made the attempt. He would have broken every bone
in his body, and then tore him limb from limb."

"That would have been rather a cruel fate," I remarked, somewhat amused
at her eulogistic description of her husband's strength.

"Well, he could do it," was her confident answer, and I have no doubt
that she thought so.

We reached the bend of the stream, where we had crossed an hour before,
without accident, for the moon was shining full and bright, but when we
intimated to our prisoners that it was desirable that they should wade
through the water, which already began to subside, they doggedly
refused, and all our urging was useless. They feared that we intended to
drown them; and even when we sent Kala to the other side of the creek to
prove that the water was not deep, they still remained sulky and
obstinate.

"Let me argue the point wid 'em," Mike said, appealing to Mr. Wright,
who reluctantly gave his consent.

"Step up, ye divils, the Irishman shouted, applying his sharp-pointed
spear to the sides of the most obstinate robber.

"Go to the devil, you Irish bogtrotter!" was the reply.

"Did ye hear him, master, dear, call me names? O, that the ruffians
should abuse a dacent lad, who has worked night and day for the
paraties that he ates, and the meat that he drinks."

"Whiskey, more like," grunted Bill.

"I'll whiskey ye, ye devils; start at once, or by St. Patrick I'll drive
ye into the water like the holy man did the toads and snakes--long life
to him."

Still the ruffians held back, and swore roundly, that they would not
stir, unless carried across the stream; and at this display of
obstinacy, Mike lost all mercy.

"Ye won't go, hey?" he shouted, bringing his spe