"How the devil should I know?" Vere turned to the troopers and spoke in English. "Well, boys, is this the fellow we're after? Speak up now!"
"It's no' sae easy tae ken," returned one cautiously. "Yon man has the look o' Brian Buidh, aye."
"Devil take you!" cried Vere irritably. "Do you mean to say yes or no? Speak out, one of you!"
"Weel, Colonel," answered another cannily, "Jock here has the right of it. I wouldna swear tae the pawky carl, but I'd ken the een o' him full weel. An I had a peep in his een, sir. I'm thinkin' I'd ken their de'il's look. Eh, lads?"
Since it seemed agreed that they would know Brian better by his hard blue eyes than by what they could see of his face, the exasperated Vere commanded that he be made open them if he were unconscious.
"Run your hand down his body, Murrough," ordered the Dark Master cynically.
Red Murrough leaned over Brian, and the latter opened his eyes without waiting for the rough command to be obeyed. Instantly the Scots broke into a chorus of recognition as Brian's gaze fell on them. Vere looked at him with an admiring laugh.
"Sink me, but the man has eyes! Well, so much the better for the ladies, eh? Now that this is over, give the lad a rouse and send him back to his cell."
He waved the Scots to begone, and rose cup in hand. Smiling evilly, the Dark Master joined him in the toast to Brian, and a yell of delight broke from the crowd as they caught the jest and joined in. O'Donnell was just motioning Murrough to have Brian taken away, when there came a sudden interruption, as a man hastened up the hall. It was one of Vere's pikemen.
"There is a party of four horsemen just outside our camp, colonel. One of them bade us get safe-conduct for him from O'Donnell Dubh, upon his honor."