Orange and Green Part 13

"Now, young fellow," one said sharply, "tell us what corps you belong to."

Walter looked stupidly at his questioner, but made no answer.

"Answer my question," the man said, levelling a pistol at him, "or I will blow out your brains at once."

Still Walter stared at him stupidly, and made no reply, except to mutter, "Water."

"It's no use," one of the other men said. "He hasn't got his right senses yet. It's no use shooting him now, after we have had the trouble of bringing him here. In the morning, he will be able to answer you."

"He had better," the other said savagely, "or we will light a fire and roast him over it. There, take him back to the stable, and give him a drink of water. I don't want him to slip through our fingers, after the trouble we have had with him."

Walter was taken back, as before, to the stable, and one of the men brought him a mug of water, and held it to his lips. He drank eagerly, and then the man placed the mug down beside him, the door was again closed and locked, and Walter was alone. He rose at once to his feet, and felt that his sleep had greatly refreshed and strengthened him.

"I will have another sleep, before I try," he said to himself. "It will not be light till six, and it must be eight or nine o'clock now. I must make up my mind, before I doze off, to wake in about three or four hours; but first, I must see what I can find, here."

He felt round the walls, but failed to find anything like a rope.

"I must trust to luck," he said; "I don't suppose they will post many sentries. These fellows are not real soldiers, and no doubt they will all be sound asleep in a couple of hours."

So saying, he again lay down, and was speedily asleep. When he woke, he felt sure that he had not exceeded the time he had given himself. He listened intently. He could hear a low, confused sound, which he knew was made by horses feeding, but he could hear no human voices. He drank the rest of the water in the mug, then he turned up the bucket, placed it under the opening, and mounted on it.

His first spring failed to reach the sill, and he stood for a few minutes, before making another attempt. He knew that it was a matter of life or death, for he had no doubt whatever that, even if he gave the required information, which he was determined not to do, however much he might suffer, he would be shot afterwards. He braced himself to the utmost, took a long breath, and then sprang. His fingers caught on the ledge of stonework, and, with a desperate effort, he drew himself up, aided by his feet. He had, before making the attempt, removed his boots, partly to avoid the sc.r.a.ping noise which these would make, partly to enable him the better to avail himself of the inequalities in the stonework.

It was a desperate struggle; and when he got his shoulders in the opening, which was just wide enough to admit them, he lay for three or four minutes, panting heavily, with the perspiration streaming down his face. The aperture was too small to admit of his turning in any way, and there was nothing for it, as he knew, but to drop head foremost.

Gradually, he drew himself through the opening, lowering himself as much as he could by holding on to the upper edge by his feet. Then, stretching out his arms to save himself, he let go. Fortunately, the ground was soft, for a garden adjoined the stable; but the shock was a heavy one, and he lay for a minute or two without moving, having some doubt whether he had not broken his neck. Then he got up, and listened.

Everything was still and quiet, and, indeed, his fall had been almost noiseless. He rose to his feet, felt along the wall until he encountered a low paling, climbed over it, and was in the road.

He had, when he jumped for the window, tied his boots to his back, and now carried them in his hand. The night was very dark; but his eyes, accustomed to the greater darkness of the stable, had no difficulty in following the road. He walked slowly, for the exertion he had undergone and the shock of the fall had drawn greatly from his small stock of strength.

After going a quarter of a mile, he put on his boots, and, climbing a wall of sods which bordered the road, struck across country. There were no stars to guide him, and a slight mist had begun to fall. There was but little wind, but this was sufficient to give a direction to the rain.

Walter noticed this, and at once struck out in a direction which kept the rain falling upon the right side of his face; and he knew that, by so continuing, he was going in a tolerably straight line. As near as he could tell he walked for two hours, and then, utterly exhausted, lay down on the lee side of a turf wall.

There was, as yet, no gleam of light in the sky, and in a very few minutes he was again sound asleep. He woke up with a feeling of bitter cold, and, on rising, found that his limbs were completely stiffened by the wet. It was morning now, the wind had got up, and a driving rain shut out the view on all sides. Walter stamped his feet and swung his arms for some time to restore the circulation.

He had no idea in which direction he had been travelling, for he did not know whether the road from which he had started ran north, south, east, or west. He noticed that the wind had changed; for, whereas he had lain down under the lee of the wall, it was now the weather side. He walked in the same direction as before for two hours, and could then go no farther.

He had seen no signs of human habitation, and had not crossed a road or even a footpath. Since starting in the morning he had pa.s.sed no more walls or fences, and, as far as his eye could reach through the driving rain, nothing was to be seen save a desolate expanse of moor and bog. He was, at any rate, free from pursuit for the time, and he thought more of obtaining food and shelter than of the Enniskilleners.

It was useless pushing further on, even had he been able to do so, while the rain lasted; for he might have pa.s.sed within a quarter of a mile of a habitation without seeing it. He accordingly threw himself down beside some low bushes, which afforded him some slight protection from the rain.

Chapter 7: The Coming Battle.

Some hours pa.s.sed, and he was on the point of dropping off to sleep again, when he heard a whistle repeated once or twice, followed by the sharp bark of a dog. It was but a short distance away, and, leaping to his feet, he saw a peasant standing at a distance of two or three hundred yards.

Walter hurried towards him at a speed of which, a few minutes before, he would have thought himself incapable. The man continued whistling, at short intervals, and did not notice Walter till he was within twenty yards distant; then he turned sharply round.

"Who are you?" he asked, clubbing a heavy stick which he held in his hand, and standing on the defensive.

The dress and appearance of the man a.s.sured Walter that he was a Catholic, and therefore a friend, and he replied at once:

"I belong to one of the Irish troops of horse. The Enniskilleners surprised a party of us, yesterday, and wounded me, as you see.

Fortunately, I escaped in the night, or they would have finished me this morning. I have been out all night in the rain, and am weak from loss of blood and hunger. Can you give me shelter?"

"That I can," the man said, "and gladly. Those villains have been killing and destroying all over the country, and there's many a one of us who, like myself, have been driven to take refuge in the bogs."

"Is it far?" Walter asked; "for I don't think I could get more than a mile or two."

"It is not half a mile," the man said. "You do look nearly done for.

Here, lean on me, I will help you along; and if you find your strength go, I will make a shift to carry you."

"It is lucky I heard you whistle," Walter said.

"It is, indeed," the man replied, "for it is not likely anyone else would have come along today. My dog went off after a rabbit, and I was whistling to him to come to me again.

"Ah! Here he is. He has got the rabbit, too. Good dog! Well done!"

He took the rabbit and dropped it into the pocket of his coat. Seeing that Walter was too exhausted to talk, he asked no questions, and said nothing till he pointed to a low mound of earth, and said: "Here we are."

He went round by the side; and Walter perceived that there was a sharp dip in the ground, and that the hut was dug out in the face of the slope; so that, if it were approached either from behind or on either side, it would not be noticed, the roof being covered with sods, and closely matching the surrounding ground.

The man went to the low door, and opened it.

"Come in, sir," he said; "you are quite welcome."

The hut contained two other men, who looked up in surprise at the greeting.

"This is a young officer, in one of our horse regiments," the man said.

"He has been in the hands of the Enniskilleners, and has got out from them alive--which is more than most can say. He has had a bad wound, has been wet through for hours, and is half starving. Look sharp, lads, and get something hot, as soon as possible.

"Now, sir, if you will take off those wet things of yours, and wrap yourself in that rug, you will find yourself the better for it. When a man is in health, a few hours wet will not do him any harm; but when he is weak from loss of blood, as you are, the cold seems to get into his bones."

Fresh turfs were at once put on the smouldering fire, which one of the men, leaning down before it, proceeded to blow l.u.s.tily; and, although much of the smoke made its way out through a hole in the roof, enough lingered to render it difficult for Walter to breathe, while his eyes watered with the sharp fumes. A kettle had been placed on the fire, and in a very short time, a jar was produced from the corner of the hut, and a horn of strong spirits and water mixed.

"Here are some cold praties, sir. It's all we have got cooked by us now, but I can promise you a better meal, later on."

Walter ate the potatoes, and drank the warm mixture. The change from the cold damp air outside, to the warm atmosphere of the hut, aided the effects of the spirits; he was first conscious of a warm glow all over him, and then the voices of the men seemed to grow indistinct.

"You had better stretch yourself on that pile of rushes," the man said, as Walter gave a start, being on the point of rolling over. "Two or three hours' sleep will make a man of you, and by that time dinner will be ready, and your clothes dry."

Walter fell almost instantaneously off to sleep, and it was late in the afternoon before he woke.

"I am afraid I must have slept a long time," he said, sitting up.

"You have had a fine sleep, surely," one of the men replied; "and it's dinner and supper, all in one, that you will have."