“Lamh Laudher, you say that you’d rather there was no ill-will between us.”

“I say that, God knows, from my heart out.”

“Then there’s one way that it may be so.  Give up Ellen; you’ll find it for your own interest to do so.”

“Show me that, Meehaul.”

“Give her up, I say, an’ then I may tell you.”

“Meehaul, good-night.  Go home.”

They had now entered the principal street of the town, and as they proceeded in what appeared to be an earnest, perhaps a friendly conversation, many of their respective acquaintances, who lounged in the moonlight about their doors, were not a little surprised at seeing them in close conference.  When Lamh Laudher wished him good night, he had reached an off street which led towards his father’s house, a circumstance at which he rejoiced, as it would have been the means, he hoped, of terminating a dialogue that was irksome to both parties.  He found himself, however, rather unexpectedly and rudely arrested by his companion.

“We can’t part, Lamh Laudher,” said Meehaul seizing him by the collar, “’till this business is settled—­I mane till you promise to give my sister up.”

“Then we must stand here, Meehaul, as long as we live—­an’ I surely won’t do that.”

“You must give her up, man.”

“Must!  Is it must from a Neil to a Lamh Laudher?  You forgot yourself, Meehaul:  you are rich now, an’ I’m poor now; but any old friend can tell you the differ between your grandfather an’ mine.  Must, indeed!”

“Ay; must is the word, I say; an’ I tell you that from this spot you won’t go till you swear it, or this stick—­an’ it’s a good one—­will bring you to submission.”

“I have no stick, an’ I suppose I may thank you for that.”

“What do you mane?” said Neil; “but no matter—­I don’t want it.  There—­to the divil with it;” and as he spoke he threw it over the roof of the adjoining house.

“Now give up my sister or take the consequence.”

“Meehaul, go home, I say.  You know I don’t fear any single man that ever breathed; but, above all men on this earth, I wish to avoid a quarrel with you.  Do you think, in the mean time, that even if I didn’t care a straw for your sister, I could be mane enough to let myself be bullied out of her by you, or any of your faction?  Never, Meehaul; so spare your breath, an’ go home.”

Several common acquaintances had collected about them, who certainly listened to this angry dialogue between the two faction leaders with great interest.  Both were powerful men, young, strong, and muscular.  Meehaul, of the two, was taller, his height being above six feet, his strength, courage, and activity, unquestionably very great.  Lamh Laudher, however, was as fine a model of physical strength, just proportion, and manly beauty as ever was created; his arms, in particular, were of terrific strength, a physical advantage so peculiar to his family as to occasion the epithet