The Tithe-Proctor Part 27

"We do, sir," said Fergus, laughing; "not a doubt of it." The latter then whispered something to Purcel, who smiled, and immediately turning to the doughty magistrate, said:--

"Well, sir, since you insist upon protecting me home--"

"Good--that's the word, Alick--steady boys--shoulder omes."

"I will feel very happy, sir, in your escort."

"Yes, Alick--yes--exactly so--but then we are time enough, man--the night's but young yet--we must have another tumbler before we go--if it is only to put terror into these villains."

"I am exceedingly sorry that it is out of my power to wait, sir. My father and John may possibly come over here, and if they do it is difficult to say what these blood-thirsty villains, who care so little about human life--especially, sir, when that life belongs to either a t.i.the-proctor or a magistrate, may do. You will oblige me very much, sir, by coming with me now. I wish to heavens I had your courage, Mr.

O'Driscol, and that I-was such a wicked and desperate dare-devil as you are."

"Good, Alick, upon my honor and conscience, you've hit me off there--hallo--what is this?--put these pistols and that blunder-bush aside, and be d--d to you, we don't want them yet awhile;" this was addressed to the servant who had brought them at Fergus's suggestion. "I am a hospitable man, Alick--a convivial man--and I tell you that I don't wish a guest to leave my house with dry lips--and what is more, I won't allow it--sit down then, and take your punch, or if you're afraid of these fellows why didn't you say so?"

"I am then, sir," replied Alick, who thought that by admitting the fact, he might the sooner bring matters between himself and the magistrate to a crisis.

"What!" exclaimed the latter, "you admit your cowardice, do you?--Well, upon my honor and reputaytion, Alick, I'm extremely surprised at you--a young fellow like you--and a coward! Now I'll tell you what, Alick, I hate a coward--I despise a coward, and d--n me if any man who is mane enough to acknowledge himself to be one, shall have the benefit of my escort this night. Then stay where you are, sir, and take your punch--but you are not ent.i.tled to any protection; no, confound me if you are! A nice office for a man of my mettle to escort a coward!--no, no--take your punch, I say--you are safe under this roof, but as touching my protection, no fellow of your kidney shall resave it from me, unless in honest open daylight with a body of police or military at my elbow; and, besides, you have declined my hospitality, Mr. Purcel, and with the man--but man you are not--who declines my hospitality, I will keep no terms. Here's the 'Castle!' long life to it, and may it never have occasion to read me a lecture for protecting a coward!

Steady, men--shoulder oines!--ah, I'm a pearl before swine here:--upon my honor and conscience, I'm nothing else--hurra!"

Whilst this manifestation of courage and loyalty was proceeding, his daughter had sent a little girl by a lonely and circuitous way across the fields to Longshot Lodge, with a message to the effect that they had prevailed upon Alick to stop for the night, and that he would also breakfast there the next morning. The little girl's absence was very brief, and on her return, Alick had no hesitation in remaining. The heroic magistrate, having taken another tumbler, began to get drowsy, and with some a.s.sistance, was prevailed on to go to bed, where he almost immediately fell asleep. The two young men then got together all the arms and ammunition in the house, which, having made ready for an attack, they went also to bed, taking only their coats off, where for the present we leave them--but not asleep--and return to M'Carthy, for whose absence, no doubt, the reader is anxious that we should account.

CHAPTER XII.--Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire.

M'Carthy on that night had not gone far, after having separated from the friendly Whiteboy, when he was met by a powerfully-formed man, who, he thought, bore a considerable resemblance in shape and size to the fellow who had been invested with authority not long before in Finnerty's. On seeing that it was M'Carthy, the stranger, whose face was blackened, and who also wore the white shirt outside, approached him coolly but determinedly, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said--: "Your name is Francis M'Carthy'?" and as he spoke, M'Carthy could perceive the ends of a case of pistols projecting from his breast within the shirt, which was open at the neck.

"As I have never knowingly done anything that should occasion me to deny my name, I acknowledge it--you know me, of course."

"I know you well. I meek it a point to know everyone who is worth knowing. In the meantime, M'Carthy, you'll come along with me, if you pleese."

"It is not at all clear that I will," replied M'Carthy; "you are a perfect stranger to me--at least your disguise makes you so. You are out on illegal business, as is evident from that disguise, and you are armed with a case of pistols. Now, under these circ.u.mstances, happen what may, until I know more about you, and who you are, I will not walk one inch in your society, except as a free agent."

"Hear me," replied the other; "you were singled out for murdher this night, and you only escaped by a miracle--by the a.s.sistance of a man who is a warm friend to you, and who got information of the danger you wor in from another friend who suspected that you were in that danger. Two pistols wor loaded to settle you, as they say. Well, the person that saved your life damped the powder in these pistols--both wor snapped at you, and they didn't go off--am I right?"

"You are right for so far, certainly."

"Well, then, the other two who followed you--one of them with a long, sharp dagger--were shot down--d--n your friend that didn't send the bullets through their brains instead of their hams and limbs; however, they fell and you escaped--am I right?"

"Perfectly correct," replied M'Carthy; "and you must have had your information only from the person who befriended me."

"Well, then, have you-any objection to come with me now?"

"Every objection; I wish to go either to Mr. O'Driscol's or Mr.

Purcel's."

"Listen. I say if you attempt this night to go to either one house or the other, you will never carry your life to them. If I was your enemy, and wished to put a bullet into you, what is there to prevent me now, I ask you?"

"All, my good friend," replied M'Carthy, "that argument won't pa.s.s with me. Many. a man there is--and I dare say you know it well--who feels a strong scruple against committing murder with his own hands, who, notwithstanding, will not scruple to employ others to commit it for him."

"Do you refuse to come with me, then? because if you do to-morrow mornin' will rise upon your corpse. Even I couldn't save you if you were known. There's a desperate and a dreadful game goin' to be played soon, and as you stand in the way of a man that possesses great power, and has a perticular end in view--the consequence is that you are doomed. Even if you do come with me, I must blacken your face, in ordher to prevint you from being known."

"Will you answer me one question candidly," said M'Carthy--"if it's a fair one? Did I see you to-night before?"

"Ask me no question," replied the man; "for I won't answer any I don't like, and that happens to be one o' them. Whether you saw me this night before, or whether you didn't, there is no occasion for me to say so, and I won't say it."

"I think I know him now," said M'Carthy; "and if I judge correctly, he is anything but a safe guide."

"Come," said the huge Whiteboy, "make up your mind; I won't weet another minute."

M'Carthy paused and deliberately reconsidered as coolly as possible all the circ.u.mstances of the night. It was obvious that this man must have had his information with respect to the recent events from his friendly preserver--a man who would not be likely to betray him into danger after having actually saved his life, by running the risk of committing two murders. On the other band it was almost clear, from the manner in which the person before him p.r.o.nounced certain words, as well as from his figure, that he was the celebrated and mysterious Buck English of whose means of living every one was ignorant, and who, as he himself had heard, expressed a strong dislike to him.

"Before I make up my mind," said M'Carthy, "may I ask another question?"

"Fifty if you like, but I won't promise to answer any one o' them."

"Was I brought to Finnerty's house with an evil purpose?"

"No: the poor, pious fool that brought you--there--but I'm wrong in sayin' so--for it was the mist that done it. No, the poor fool that came there with you is a crature that n.o.body would trust. He thinks you're lyin' sound asleep in Finnerty's this minute. He's fit for nothing but prayin' and thinking the girls in love with him."

"Well," replied M'Carthy, "at all events you are a brother Irishman, and I will put confidence in you; come, I am ready to accompany you."

"In that case, then, you must suffer me to blacken your face, and for fear your shoot-in' jacket might betray you, I'll put this shirt over it."

He then pulled out an old piece of crumpled paper that contained a mixture of lampblack and grease, with which he besmeared his whole face, from his neck to the roots of his hair, after which he stripped the shirt he wore outside his clothes, and in about two or three minutes completely metamorphosed our friend M'Carthy into a thorough-looking Whiteboy.

"Come along now," said he, "and folly me; but even as it is, and in spite of your disguise, we must take the lonesomest way to the only place I think you'll be safe in."

"I am altogether in your hands," replied M'Carthy, "and shall act as you wish."

They then proceeded across the country for about two miles, keeping up towards the mountainous district, after which they made a turn and entered a deep valley, in whose lowest extremity stood a long, low house.

"Now," said the stranger, "before we go in here, remember what I'm goin'

to say to' you. If any one--I mean a Whiteboy,"--here M'Carthy started, struck by the peculiarity of the p.r.o.nunciation--a circ.u.mstance which by no means strengthened his sense, of security--"if any of them should come across you and ask you for the pa.s.s, here it is. _What's the hour?_ Answer--_Very near the right one. Isn't it come yet?_ Answer--_The hour is come, but not the man. When will he come?_ Answer--_He is within sight_." He repeated these words three or four times, after which he and M'Carthy entered the house.

"G.o.d save all here!" said the guide.

"G.o.d save you kindly, boys."

"Mrs. Ca.s.sidy," he continued, "here's poor fellow on his keepin' for t.i.the business and although you don't know me, I know you well enough to be sartin that you'll give this daicent boy a toss in a bed till daybreak--an' a mouthful to ate if he should want it."

"Troth an' I will, sir; isn't one o' my poor boys in Lisnagola goal for the same t.i.thes--bad luck to them--that is for batin' one of the vagabonds that came to collect them. Troth he'll have the best bed in my house."

"And listen, Mrs. Ca.s.sidy; if any of us should happen to come here to-night--although I don't think it's likely they will, still it's hard to say, for the country's alive with with them--if any of them should come here, don't let them know that this poor boy is in the house--do you mind?"

"Ah, then, it would be a bad day or night either I wouldn't."