No gleam of intelligence brightened their faces at the word.

Then he said “Butler,” the Irish family name of the earl.  Two or three of the men spoke together, and Harry thought that there was some comprehension of his meaning.  Then he read aloud the addresses of the letters, and the exclamations which followed each named showed that these were familiar to the men.  A lively conversation took place between them, and the leader presently approached and held out his hand.

“Thomas Blake, Killicuddery,” he said.  This was the address of one of the letters, and Harry at once gave it him.  It was handed to the boy, with a few words of instruction.  The lad at once left the hut.  The men seemed to think that for the time there was nothing more to be done, laid their pikes against the wall, and assumed, Harry thought, a more friendly aspect.  He reciprocated their action, by unbuckling his belt and laying aside his sword and pistols.  Fresh peats were piled on the fire, another candle was lit, and the party prepared to make themselves comfortable.  The bottle and wooden cup were again produced, and the owner of the hut offered some black bread to his visitor.

CHAPTER XVII.

The siege of drogheda.

Under the influence of the warm, close air of the hut, and the spirits he had taken, Harry soon felt drowsiness stealing over him, and the leader, perceiving this, pointed to a heap of dried fern lying in the corner of the hut.  Harry at once threw himself on it, and in a very few minutes was sound asleep.  When he awoke daylight was streaming in through the door of the hut.  Its inmates were for the most part sitting as when he had last seen them, and Harry supposed that they had talked all night.  The atmosphere of the hut was close and stifling, and Harry was glad to go to the door and breathe the fresh air outside.

The weather had changed, and the sun, which had just risen, was shining brightly.  The hut stood at the foot of a long range of stony hills, while in front stretched, as far as the eye could see, an expanse of brown bog.  A bridle path ran along at the foot of the hills.  An hour later two figures were seen approaching along this.  The one was a mounted horseman, the other running in front of him, at a long, easy trot, was Harry’s guide of the preceding evening.

On reaching the cottage the gentleman on horseback alighted, and, advancing to Harry, said: 

“Captain Furness, I am heartily sorry to hear that you have had what must have been a disagreeable adventure.  The lad here who brought your letter told me that you were regarded as a prisoner, and considered to be a Protestant emissary.  I am Tom Blake, and I live nearly twenty miles from here.  That is the reason why I was not here sooner.  I was keeping it up with some friends last night, and had just gone to bed when the messenger arrived, and my foolish servants pretended I was too drunk to be woke.  However, when they did rouse me, I started at once.”