"You've only to say the word," continued Pat, in a low voice, "you've only to say the word to them boys as 'll be there to-night, and they'll see you righted with Keegan."
"What boys—and how righted?"
"How righted! why how should you be righted afther what he's afther doing?—and I tell you them's the boys as will not see your father's son put upon that way."
"Which them d'ye main, Pat?"
"Oh! there's a lot of them up to anything. There's Jack Byrne and Joe Reynolds is mad to be having a fling at Ussher; you know their brothers is in gaol about the malt they found away at Loch Sheen; and there's Corney Dolan, and McKeon, and a lot more of them; I knows them all, and it'll be jist as good to them to be making a job of Keegan, as the other."
"I wouldn't have the ruffian murthered, Pat; you don't think I want to have him murthered?"
"Whist, Mr. Thady; may be the children about in the trees there would hear you. Who says anything of murdher? No, but just give him a bating that would go nigh taching him the taste of being murdhered,—and the same for Master Ussher; for I tell ye—may the tongue of the cowardly ruffian be blisthered for putting the name he did on your sisther!—but he was only repating what Ussher has said hisself, and that more nor once nor twice."
Thady made no reply, but walked on slowly; he gave no assent, but he showed no indignation at the kind of revenge which was proposed to him.
"And what was he saying about the estate,—Keegan, I main, Mr. Thady,—before you came to be quarrelling that way?"
"He was saying what 'll be thrue enough,—that Ballycloran 'll be sold, right away, before next May; and that he himself will be the purchaser—and that we'll be wandering the road like any other set of beggars."