The tenants looked at one another, at Mr. Tener, and at me, and the ex-bailiff smiled.

“You must see this,” said Mr. Tener, “but I am perfectly willing now to say to you, in the presence of this gentleman, that in spite of all, I am quite willing to do what you ask, and to let you come back into the titles you have forfeited, for I would rather have you back on the property than strangers—­”

“And, indeed, we’re sure you would.”

“But understand, you must pay down a year’s rent and the costs you have put us to.”

“Ah! sure you wouldn’t have us to pay the costs?”

“But indeed I will,” responded Mr. Tener; “you mustn’t for a moment suppose I will have any question about that.  You brought all this trouble on yourselves, and on us; and while I am ready and willing to deal more than fairly, to deal liberally with you about the arrears—­and to give you time—­the costs you must pay.”

“And what would they be, the costs?” queried one of the tenants anxiously.

“Oh, that I can’t tell you, for I don’t know,” said Mr. Tener, “but they shall not be anything beyond the strict necessary costs.”

“And if we come back would we be protected?”

“Of course you will have protection.  But why do you want protection?  Here you are, a couple of strong grown men, with men-folk of your families.  See here! why don’t you go to such an one, and such an one,” naming other tenants; “you know them well.  Go to them quietly and sound them to see if they will come back on the same terms with you; form a combination to be honest and to stand by your rights, and defy and break up the other dishonest combination you go in fear of!  Is it not a shame for men like you to lie down and let those fellows walk over you, and drive you out of your livelihood and your homes?”

The tenants looked at each other, and at the rest of us.  “I think,” said one of them at last, “I think ——­ and ——­,” naming two men, “would come with us.  Of course,” turning to Mr. Tener, “you wouldn’t discover on us, sir.”

“Discover on you!  Certainly not,” said Mr. Tener.  “But why don’t you make up your minds to be men, and ‘discover’ on yourselves, and defy these fellows?”

“And the cattle, sir? would we get protection for the cattle?  They’d be murdered else entirely.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Tener, “the police would endeavour to protect the cattle.”

Then, turning to me, he said, “That is a very reasonable question.  These scoundrels, when they are afraid to tackle the men put under their ban, go about at night, and mutilate and torture and kill the poor beasts.  I remember a case,” he went on, “in Roscommon, where several head of cattle mysteriously disappeared.  They could be found nowhere.  No trace of them could be got.  But long weeks after they vanished, some lads in a field several miles away saw numbers of crows hovering over a particular point.  They went there, and there at the bottom of an abandoned coal-shaft lay the shattered remains of these lost cattle.  The poor beasts had been driven blindfold over the fields and down into this pit, where, with broken limbs, and maimed, they all miserably died of hunger.”