“Come, Owen, my hearty!” said M'Guire, as he held a card ready to play, “you or I for it now; we'll soon see which the devil's fondest of. There's the two of clubs for ye!”
“There's the three, then!” said Owen, with a crash of his hand, as he placed the card over the other.
“And there's the four!” said Heffernan, “and the thrick is Sam M'Guire's.”
“Owen Connor's lost!” “Owen's lost!” murmured the crowd; and, whether in half-compassion for his defeat, or grief that so hazardous a deed should be entrusted to a doubtful hand, the sensation created was evidently of gloom and dissatisfaction.
“You've a right to take either of us wid ye, Owen,” said M'Guire, slapping him on the shoulder. “Luke or myself must go, if ye want us.”
“No; I'll do it myself,” said Owen, in a low hollow voice.
“There's the tool, then!” said Heffernan, producing from the breast of his frieze coat a long horse-pistol, the stock of which was mended by a clasp of iron belted round it; “and if it doesn't do its work, 'tis the first time it ever failed. Ould Miles Cregan, of Gurtane, was the last that heard it spake.”
Owen took the weapon, and examined it leisurely, opening the pan and settling the priming, with a finger that never trembled. As he drew forth the ramrod to try the barrel, Heffernan said, with a half-grin, “There's two bullets in it, avich!—enough's as good as a feast.”
Owen sat still and spoke not, while the leader and Heffernan explained to him the circumstances of the plot against the life of Mr. Lucas. Information had been obtained by some of the party, that the agent would leave Galway on the following evening, on his way to Westport, passing through Oughterarde and their own village, about midnight. He usually travelled in his gig, with relays of horses ready at different stations of the way, one of which was about two miles distant from the old ruin, on the edge of the lake—a wild and dreary spot, where stood a solitary cabin, inhabited by a poor man who earned his livelihood by fishing. No other house was within a mile of this; and here, it was determined, while in the act of changing horses, the murder should be effected. The bleak common beside the lake was studded with furze and brambles, beneath which it was easy to obtain shelter, though pursuit was not to be apprehended—at least they judged that the servant would not venture to leave his master at such a moment; and as for the fisherman, although not a sworn member of their party, they well knew he would not dare to inform against the meanest amongst them.
Owen listened attentively to all these details, and the accurate directions by which they instructed him on every step he should take. From the moment he should set foot within the cover to the very instant of firing, each little event had its warning.