At length, after about a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and three of them—that is to say, two of the strangers and Finnerty—had each drank three glasses of spirits, the fourth, who had taken only one glass, beckoned to the other two to follow him.
“I think,” said he, “they are all gone, and the coast is clear.”
In this man’s voice, M’Carthy, to his infinite delight, once more recognized that of his unknown well-wisher. Be this as it may, he and the other two left the house, and, as the reader is no doubt interested in their movements, we shall permit him to follow them to the dining-room of the shooting-lodge, where the meeting had just been held.
“Very well, then,” he proceeded, “it is so best, as none of us can become a traitor against the rest. Shew me your pistols; for, as I’m an ould soger, I’ll regulate them for you better than you’ll be able to do yourselves.”
He accordingly took their pistols, examined them closely, fixed the powder in the pans, adding’ a fresh supply of priming from a little goat’s horn which he carried in his-pocket. He then took out his own, which he simply looked at, and again returned to his pocket.
“Now,” said he, “our best plan is to take him about the small o’ the back, when he’s before us, one only at a time; you,” said he, addressing the tallest, “will fire first; you,”—to the other—“next if he misses him; and, as I’m the boy that doesn’t miss my mark, I’ll take him down, never fear, if he should escape either of you. Come now, let us go in and get him to his legs, that we may start.”
On making their appearance again, Finnerty approached M’Carthy, and exclaimed as before, but on this occasion with a loud and earnest voice, “Come, sir, get up if you plaise; it’s time for you to meet the car.” To this M’Carthy made no reply.
“Come, sir,” repeated Finnerty, “bounce; hillo, I say, Mr. M’Carthy; up wid you, sir, the car will be waitin’ for you;” and he gave him a slap on the shoulder as he spoke.
“Hallo!” exclaimed the pretended sleeper, “have a care—easy,’ easy—what’s that? who are you?—eh—aw—oh, dear me, where am I?”
“In a friend’s house, sir; get up, you know Mr. Purcel’s car is waitin’ for you at the mountain road below.”
M’Carthy started to his feet, and on looking about him, exclaimed, “How is this, Finnerty? why are the faces of these men blackened?”
“Never you mind that, sir,” replied Finnerty, “they are two or three poor fellows that’s on their keepin’ in regard to havin’ paid their tithes against the will o’ the people; an’ they don’t wish to be known, that’s all.”
“Well,” replied M’Carthy, “that’s their own affair, and neither yours nor mine, Finnerty. Come, then, are you ready? for I am.”
“These boys, Mr. M’Carthy, has promised to take the best care of you while in their company, an’ as they’re goin’ to the mountain road, where your’re to meet the car, they’ll bring you safe, sir.”