“Well, come,” said the sergeant, “if you have been lyin’ all your life, you’ve spoke the truth now.  I think we may let him go.”

“I don’t think we ought,” said one of them, named Steen, a man of about fifty years of age, and of Dutch descent; “as Bamet said, ’we don’t know what he is,’ and I agree with him.  He may be a Rapparee in disguise, or, what is worse, Reilly himself.”

“What Reilly do yez mane, gintlemen, wid submission?” asked Fergus.

“Why, Willy Reilly, the famous Papish,” replied the sergeant. (We don’t wish to fatigue the reader with his drunken stutterings.) “It has been sworn that he’s training the Papishes every night to prepare them for rebellion, and there’s a warrant out for his apprehension.  Do you know him?”

“Throth I do, well; and to tell yez the truth, he doesn’t stand very high wid his own sort.”

“Why so, my good fellow?”

“Bekaise they think that he keeps too much company wid Prodestans, an’ that he’s half a Prodestan himself, and that it’s only the shame that prevents him from goin’ over to them altogether.  Indeed, it’s the general opinion among the Catholics—­”

“Papishes! you old dog.”

“Well, then, Papishes—­that he will—­an’ throth, I don’t think the Papishes would put much trust in the same man.”

“Where are you bound for now? and what brings you out at an illegal hour on this lonely road?” asked Steen.

“Troth, then, I’m on my way to Mr. Graham’s above; for sure, whenever I’m near him, poor Paddy Brennan never wants for the good bit and sup, and the comfortable straw bed in the barn.  May God reward him and his for it!”

Now, the truth was, that Graham, a wealthy and respectable Protestant farmer, was uncle to the sergeant; a fact which Fergus well knew, in consequence of having been a house servant with him for two or three years.

“Sergeant,” said the Williamite settler, “I think this matter may be easily settled.  Let two of the men go back to your uncle’s with him, and see whether they know him there or not.”

“Very well,” replied the sergeant, “let you and Simpson go back with him—­I have no objection.  If my uncle’s people don’t know him, why then bring him down to Sir Roberts’.”

“It’s not fair to put such a task upon a man of my age,” replied Steen, “when you know that you have younger men here.”

“It was you proposed it, then,” said the sergeant, “and I say, Steen, if you be a true man you have a right to go, and no right at all to shirk your duty.  But stop—­I’ll settle it in a word’s speaking:  here you—­you old Papish, where are you?—­oh, I see—­you’re there, are you?  Come now, gentlemen, shoulder arms—­all right—­present anns.  Now, you confounded Papish, you say that you have often slept in my uncle’s barn?”

“Is Mr. Graham your uncle, sir?—­bekaise, if he is, I know that I’m in the hands of a respectable man.”