Kilgorman

He eyed me sharply.

"They do, do they? And how come you to know it?"

"Sure, it's common talk," said I; "and more by tokens, they've sent their guns before them."

"The less you talk about what you don't understand the better," said the officer, looking glum; "but I'd give any one a hundred pounds to tell me where they put the arms when they land them."

Here I thought it wise to be silent. I could have earned a hundred pounds easily that afternoon.

When we reached Rathmullan, a sergeant was down on the pier awaiting Captain Lestrange.

"There's wild work going, captain," I heard him say; "the boys are getting to a head, and every mother's son of them with a gun in his hand. The troop's been ordered over to Letterkenny, and they're away already to watch the fun. Begging your pardon, captain, you must take your dinner in the saddle this day."

The captain took this news, especially the end of it, bravely, and tossed me down a s.h.i.+lling.

"Good-bye, my lad; and carry my respects to your young mistress."

And he strode away to the inn where the horses waited, and in a few minutes was clattering at full speed down the road that leads to Letterkenny.

Now, thought I, was my chance, with a favouring breeze, to slip down the lough and carry out my purpose of speaking the _Cigale_.

I would spend my s.h.i.+lling, or part of it, in drinking his Majesty's health, by which time it would be dusk enough to enable me to pa.s.s Knockowen un.o.bserved.

In the inn, however, I found a great disturbance going on; so much so that I was crowded behind the door, and forced to stay there, first because I must, and presently because I would. What the trouble was I could not at first ascertain; but it soon came out that at Sheep Haven a gang of smugglers had been trapped, and their skipper swung at his own yard-arm. That was bad enough; but what was worse, he was a Rathmullan man, and the warrant for his capture had been given a week ago by a magistrate across the lough.

"I'll warrant you that was Maurice Gorman did it," said some one.

At the name I crept further back behind the door, and stood like a mouse.

"The very man," said another. "He's a dirty thraitor. He can let the boys well enough alone when he loikes."

"Whisht!" said another; "he's away at Malin this very week after more, and his men with him. I tell you what I'm thinking, Larry," continued the speaker, who had drunk somewhat, "this--"

"Howld yer tongue," said the first speaker in a whisper. "Do you know no better than blather at the top of your voice like that?"

"I'm thinking," continued the other, retreating towards the door, and beckoning the others around him, "that it'd do Maurice a world of good to have his winders broken."

"Ay, and not by pebbles. There's lead enough to spare in the country, praise G.o.d."

"And fire enough to warm his bones if he should be feeling cold," said another.

"He's to be back to-morrow. I heard that from Martin, who's been left to take care of the place."

"Sure, Martin's a right boy for us. He'd never spoil sport for the likes of Gorman."

"Not he. I warrant you Martin will be waiting on us, for I'll step across and tell him myself. There's no one else to mind but the women and a

"Begorrah, thin, we'll stand by you, Larry. If Pat Corkill swings to plaze Maurice Gorman, Maurice shall roast to plaze us. But whisht!

I'll have a boat for the eight of yez at this time to-morrow."

Then, one by one, they slunk off out of the dark shanty, leaving me behind the door in a fever of excitement and impatience.

I durst not go all at once, or be seen in the place; so I waited on till the road was clear and the host was away putting up his shutters.

Then I slipped out, and slouched quietly down to the pier. By good luck I had moored my boat under the side of an old hull that lay there, where she could hardly be noticed by any who did not look for her. I was thankful, aided by the friendly night, to reach it safely, and was soon speeding up the lough as fast as my sail would carry me, with my big budget of news for Knockowen.

CHAPTER TEN.

A NIGHT ATTACK.

I think, had the wind only favoured, I might have been tempted, notwithstanding the risk of it, to venture up in my boat as far as Kilgorman for the sake of getting a word with Tim, even if I could not hope to follow my quest up to the house itself. But the breeze dropped slack before I was well clear of Rathmullan, and it took me many hours of hard pulling, with the chance aid of an occasional puff, to make as far as Knockowen; and by that time the dawn was beginning to show in the east, and my chance of pa.s.sing undetected was gone.

Besides, the news I bore, and the importance of it to the little, unprotected family at Knockowen, would hardly allow of delay. I slipped into the house and curled myself up in my corner, but not to sleep.

Supposing, as was likely, his honour was not back by night, it would be left to me to defend the house and the women as best I could. And how was I to do it?

The first thing I saw when I arose at the summons of the c.o.c.k was the white sails of the _Cigale_ in the distance standing out for the mouth of the lough. So there was an end of Tim for the present. I confess I was almost glad; for had he been still within call, I should have been tempted all day long to desert my post to get at him. Now I had nothing to take my mind from the business of the night that was coming.

By mid-day his honour had not returned. And then it seemed to me I must do something, if the danger was to be averted. So I saddled Juno (who, by the way, had quietly trotted home to her stable the morning after her runaway race with Miss Kit three months ago), and despite Martin's questions and objections, to which I replied that I was on my lady's business, rode as hard as the mare would carry me to the barracks at Fahan.

There I boldly reported what I knew, and in my mistress's name bade the sergeant in charge send half-a-dozen armed men to protect the house.

The sergeant answered that all his men were away, and that unless they returned soon he would have no one to send.

Then I demanded a brace of guns, and a promise that, failing any others, he would come himself. To this he agreed that he certainly would, and bade me keep my own counsel and not alarm the women. As to Martin, I would do well, he said, to make sure of him before he could do any harm.

He gave me the guns done up in a truss of straw to avoid detection, and with this clumsy parcel slung across the mare's back I trotted home.

As I came near the avenue I noticed a skulking figure step quickly behind the trees, and guessed this was probably the messenger who had promised to come over to warn Martin of what was in store. I doubted whether I ought not to attack him there and then. But had I done so I might have given an alarm, and lost my guns into the bargain. So I pretended to see nothing, and pa.s.sed on, whistling to myself, up to the house.

The afternoon was already well advanced before I dismounted in the stable-yard. Martin, as I expected, stood there waiting for me. It was as much his object to get me disposed of as it was mine to dispose of him. My only chance was to seem to know nothing, and keep a sharp look- out on him.

"You're fond of riding," said he with a sneer; "it's worth a ride to Fahan to fetch a truss of straw when there's plenty in the stable."

"There's more than straw in this," said I, lifting it up and carrying it up to the house. "Man, dear, it's full of guns."

He was not to be taken in by chaff like that, he said. And indeed he fully believed, as I hoped he would, that I was making a fool of him.

"Since you don't believe me, you might carry it indoors for me, while I put up the mare," said I, risking a little more to make sure of him.

"You may carry your own litter," said he, "and hold your tongue over it."

So I carried the truss into the kitchen, and laid it in the corner there, and presently returned to the yard.

He had taken Juno into the stable, and was unsaddling her there.

"Come here," he called, "and put up your own beast."

I guessed pretty well what he meant by that. The stable was a small one, with only one little grated window high up, and a thick door.