"Welcome," he exclaimed with a low bow as Vere swung down from his saddle. "Your men received the provision I sent off yesterday?"
"Aye, and thankful we were!" cried the other cheerily, for he was a red-faced man of forty, a Munsterman and half-English, and loved his bottle. "Hearing certain news from one of your men I made bold to ride ahead in all haste, O'Donnell."
"News?" repeated the Dark Master softly. "And of what nature, Colonel Vere?"
"Why, of one Brian Buidh, or Yellow Brian." At this the Dark Master began to finger the Spanish blade he had taken from Brian, and for a second Vere was very near to death, had he known it.
"What of him, Colonel Vere?"
"Why, the rogue had the impudence to come down on a convoy of powder and stores, last week, going from the Archbishop at Ennis to Malbay, for our use. Not only this, but a hundred of our rascally Scots deserted to him, he slipped past us at Galway, and I was in hopes you could give me word of him when I hit over this way. You're something of a ravager yourself, sink me if you aren't!" and he dug the Dark Master jovially in the ribs.
"Yes," murmured O'Donnell thoughtfully, "so they say, Colonel Vere. But only when Parliament men come past, you understand. So you heard that this Yellow Brian was here?"
"Aye, and that you were doing him to death," coolly responded Vere, and his eyes flickered to the white form on the stones. "Zounds! What's this?"
"Yellow Brian," responded the Dark Master dryly. "What do you want with him?"
"Eh? Why, I'll take him back to Galway and hang him! I've a dozen of the Scots he was fool enough to let loose, and when my men come up they'll identify him readily enough."