Tim could neither speak nor use his numbed limbs. The old woman took him in her arms, climbed up through the hole, and carried him to the kitchen, where she made him swallow a cup of tea, and bathed his face with warm water, speaking her mind freely on the iniquities of Pardo.
He told her what had happened, and what Pardo had said.
"And is it pay that the master will be giving for a prisoner that is free!" cried the old woman. "Sure now, cannot ye telegraph to um?"
"I wish I could; we ought to have repaired the wire. But the Colonel will be sending a despatch to Father, and his courier will get there before Pardo."
"He might," said Biddy. "Faith, I hope the master will shoot the wretch; he has all the silver stolen, and I don't know what all. And what did ye be after, coming into this den of lions?"
"Just a change of clothes, Biddy. I suppose they haven't taken them."
"Not them. They're not clean inside or out. I will get ye the bits of things, my dear, and do ye rub this butter on your face. 'Tis the good thing for them bites."
In an hour or so Tim felt able to return to the camp.
"You had better go into the town, Biddy," he said as he set off.
"What for would I be doing that?" she rejoined. "I do not be in dread of the likes of them villains, and if so be they come back, I wouldn't say but I tell um what I think of um."