Reilly turned towards the ruined chapel, and simply raising his right hand, about eight or ten persons made their appearance; but, restrained by signal from him, they did not advance.

“That will do,” said he.  “Now, Randal, I hope you understand your position.  Do not provoke me again; for if you do I will surround you with toils from which you could as soon change your fierce and brutal nature as escape.  Yes, and I will take you in the midst of your ruffian guards, and in the deepest of your fastnesses, if ever you provoke me as you have done on other occasions, or if you ever injure this gentleman or any individual of his family.  Come, sir,” he proceeded, addressing the old man, “you are now mounted—­my horse is in this old ruin—­and in a moment I shall be ready to accompany you.”

Reilly and his companions joined our travellers, one of the former having offered the old squire a large frieze great-coat, which he gladly accepted, and having thus formed a guard of safety for him and his faithful attendant, they regained the old road we I have described, and resumed their journey.

When they had gone, the Rapparee and his companions looked after them with blank faces for some minutes.

“Well,” said their leader, “Reilly has knocked up our game for this night.  Only for him I’d have had a full and sweet revenge.  However, never mind:  it’ll go hard with me, or I’ll have it yet.  In the mane time it won’t be often that such another opportunity will come in our way.”

“Well, now that it is over, what was your intention, Randal?” asked the person to whom Reilly had addressed himself.

“Why,” replied the miscreant, “after the deed was done, what was to prevent us from robbing the house to-night, and taking away his daughter to the mountains.  I have long had my eye on her, I can tell you, and it’ll cost me a fall, or I’ll have her yet.”

“You had better,” replied Fergus Reilly, for such was his name, “neither make nor meddle with that family afther this night.  If you do, that terrible relation of mine will hang you like a dog.”

“How will he hang me like a dog?” asked the Rapparee, knitting his shaggy eyebrows, and turning upon him a fierce and gloomy look.

“Why, now, Randal, you know as well as I do,” replied the other, “that if he only raised his finger against you in the country, the very people that harbor both you and us would betray us, aye, seize us, and bind us hand and foot, like common thieves, and give us over to the authorities.  But as for himself, I believe you have sense enough to let him alone.  When you took away Mary Traynor, and nearly kilt her brother, the young priest—­you know they were Reilly’s tenants—­I needn’t tell you what happened:  in four hours’ time he had the country up, followed you and your party—­I wasn’t with you then, but you know it’s truth I’m spakin’—­and when he had five to one against you, didn’t he make them stand aside until he and you should decide it between you?  Aye, and you know he could a’ brought home every man of you tied neck and heels, and would, too, only that there was a large reward offered for the takin’ of you livin’ or dead, and he scorned to have any hand in it on that account.”