Within about ten yards of them, to the left, the very direction in which they had been proceeding, was a small deep lake’ or tarn, utterly shoreless, and into which they unquestionably would have walked and perished, as neither of them knew how to swim.  The clearing away of the mist, and the light of the stars (for the moon had not yet risen), enabled the parties to see each other, and in a few minutes Andrew and his master were joined by four men, the principal person among them being the identical individual whom they both had dreaded—­the Red Rapparee.

“Master,” said Cummiskey, in a whisper, on seeing them approach, “we must fight for it, I’m afeered, but let us not be rash; there may be a friend or two among them, and it is better to come off peaceably if we can.”

“I agree with you,” replied his master.  “There is no use in shedding unnecessary blood; but, in any event, let us not permit them to disarm us, should they insist on doing so.  They know I never go three yards from my hall-door without arms, and it is not improbable they may make a point of taking them from us.  I, however, for one, will not trust to their promises, for I know their treachery, as I do their cowardice, when their numbers are but few, and an armed opponent or two before them, determined to give battle.  Stand, therefore, by me, Andy, and, by King William, should they have re-course to violence, we shall let them see, and feel too, that we are not unprepared.”

“I have but one life, sir,” replied his faithful follower; “it was spent—­at least its best days were—­in your service, and sooner than any danger should come to you, it will be lost in your defence.  If it was only for the sake of her, that is not here, the Cooleen Bawn, I would do it.”

“Who goes there?” asked a deep and powerful voice when the parties had come within about twenty yards of each other.

“By the powers!” exclaimed Andrew in a whisper, “it’s himself the Red Rapparee!”

“We are friends,” he replied, “and have lost our way.”

The other party approached, and, on joining our travellers, the Rapparee started, exclaiming, “What, noble Squire, is it possible that this is you?  Hut! it can’t be—­let me look at you closer, till I make sure of you.”

“Keep your distance, sir,” replied the old man with courage and dignity; “keep your distance; you see that I and my servant are both well armed, and determined to defend ourselves against violence.”

An ominous and ferocious glance passed from the Rapparee to his comrades, who, however, said nothing, but seemed to be resolved to guide themselves altogether by his conduct.  The Red Rapparee was a huge man of about forty, and the epithet of “Red” had been given to him in consequence of the color of his hair.  In expression his countenance was by no means unhandsome, being florid and symmetrical, but hard, and with scarcely any trace of feeling.  His brows were far asunder,