“Plainly enough, man; if they carry the Union, they'll not leave a man worth robbing in the island. You 'll have to take to an honest calling, Freney,—turn cattle-drover. By the way, they tell me you 're a good judge of a horse.”
“Except yourself, there's not a better in the island; and if you 've no objection, I 'll mount and keep you company as far as Maynooth, where you 'll easily get horses—and it will be broad daylight by that time—to bring you into Dublin.”
“I accept the offer willingly. I'll venture to say we shall not be robbed on the journey.”
“Well, sir, the horses won't be here for an hour yet, and if you 'll join me in a bit of supper I was going to have when you came in, it will help to pass the time till we are ready to start.”
Daly assented, not the less readily that he had not eaten anything since morning, and Freney left the room to hasten the preparations for the meal.
“Come, Freney,” said Daly, as the other entered the room a few moments after, “was it the strength of conscious rectitude that made you stand my fire as you did a while ago, or did you think me so bad a marksman at four paces?”
“Neither, sir,” replied the robber, laughing; “I saw the pan of the lock half open as you drew it from your pocket, and I knew the priming must have fallen out; but for that—”
“You had probably fired, yourself?”
“Just so,” rejoined he, with a short nod. “I could have shot you before you levelled at me. Now, sir, here's something far better than burning powder. I am sure you are too old a traveller not to be able to eat a rasher of bacon.”
“And this I take to be as free of any allegiance to the king as yourself,” said Daly, as he poured out a wineglass-ful of “poteen” from a short black bottle.