“No, sir; there is not one of them in this part of the kingdom, and I believe the most of them all are out of it altogether.  But, even if they were not, I, sir, am not the man to betray them; the Red Rapparee would, if he could get at them; but, thank God, I’ve put every man of them beyond his reach.”

“You did! and pray, now, why, may I ask, did that happen?”

“Bekaise it came to my ears that it was his intention to inform against them, and to surrender them all to the Government.”

“Well, Reilly, after all, I believe you to be an honest fellow, even although you were once a robber; but the question now is, what is to be done?  Are you sure of his whereabouts?”

“I think so, sir; or, if I am not, I know one that is.  But I have an observation to make.  You know, sir, I would a’ gone abroad, a freeman before this time, only that it’s necessary I should still keep on my disguise, in ordher that I may move about as I wish until I secure this Red Rapparee.  After that, sir, please God, I’ll taste a mouthful of freedom.  In the meantime I know one, as I said, that will enable us to make sure of him.”

“Pray, who is that?”

“Tom Steeple, sir.”

“Do you mean the poor fool of that name—­or rather, I believe, of that nickname?”

“I do, sir; and in many things he’s less of a fool than wiser men.  He has been dodg-in’ him for the last two or three days; and he’s a person that no one would ever suspect, unless, indeed, the cautious and practised Rapparees; but in ordher to meet any such suspicion, I have got upon the right trail myself—­we’re sure of him now, I think.”

“Well, Reilly,” proceeded the sheriff, “I leave the management of the capture of this man to yourself.  You shall have a strong and determined party to support you.  Do you only show them the man, and, take my word for it, they will secure the robber.  After this affair is over you must throw off those rags.  I will furnish you with decent clothes, and you can go out at large without fear or risk, and that under your own name too.  I took your hint, and declined swearing the informations against him before the old squire, as I had intended, from an apprehension that he might possibly blab the fact to Whitecraft, who, if your information be correct, would have given him notice to fly, or otherwise concealed him from justice.”

“Well, sir,” said Reilly, “it’s my opinion that the Rapparee will lodge in Sligo jail before to-morrow mornin’; and it’s a thousand pities that Whitecraft shouldn’t be sent there to keep him company.”

“He certainly is the most unpopular man living.  In the exuberance of his loyalty he has contrived to offend almost every liberal Protestant in the county, and that with an unjustifiable degree of wanton, and overbearing insolence, arising from his consciousness of impunity.  However, thank God, his day is gone by.  But, mark me, Reilly—­I had almost forgotten—­don’t neglect to secure the clothes in which the villain robbed me; they will be important.”