A murmur of indignation at the imputed treachery of the absent man buzzed through the crowd; while one fellow, with a face flushed by drink, and eyes bleared and bloodshot, cried out: “And are ye to stop here all night, calling for the boy that's gone down to bethray yez? Is there none of yez will take his place?”
“I will! I will! I'm ready and willin'!” were uttered by full twenty, in a breath.
“Who will ye have with yez? take your own choice!” said the leader, turning towards M'Quire and Heffernan, who stood whispering eagerly together.
“There's the boy I'd take out of five hundred, av he was the same I knew once,” said M'Guire, laying his hand on Owen's shoulder.
“Begorra then, I wondher what ye seen in him lately to give you a consate out of him,” cried Heffernan, with a rude laugh. “'Tisn't all he's done for the cause anyway.”
Owen started, and fixed his eyes first on one, then on the other of the speakers; but his look was rather the vacant stare of one awakening from a heavy sleep, than the expression of any angry passion—for want and privation had gone far to sap his spirit, as well as his bodily strength.
“There, avich, taste that,” said a man beside him, who was struck by his pale and wasted cheek, and miserable appearance.
Owen almost mechanically took the bottle, and drank freely, though the contents was strong poteen.
“Are ye any betther now?” said Heffernan, with a sneering accent.
“I am,” said Owen, calmly, for he was unconscious of the insolence passed off on him; “I'm a deal better.”