“Faith, then,” and Paddy slipped from his horse, “at a hint like that, it’s not for my father’s son to hang back. Come along, then; I’m with you to the end of it, whatever it brings us to.”
But now it was Ben who showed the greatest caution. As he, too, dismounted, he said:
“It will be best, perhaps, for us to tie our horses at the roadside.”
“Arrah, but you have the fine head on you, so you have,” admired Paddy. “A good notion it is, for sorra the one of us knows how soon or how suddenly we’ll be wanting them.”
Accordingly the two horses were made fast to a tree near at hand; then the lads advanced toward the house with the green light.
It was a low stone structure with broad, small paned windows and a huge sloping porch. Directly over the door burned a lantern of green glass, and through the windows streamed the yellow illumination of candles. As they stepped upon the porch, the murmur of many voices came to their ears.
“They have a most excellent patronage for a place so situated,” spoke Paddy Burk, after a glance through one of the windows. “Sure a body would think a tavern upon a road like this would be lonely enough.”
Ben lifted the great wrought-iron latch and opened the door. The place was filled with a babble of voices; a knot of men sat at each table eating and drinking and talking loudly; a huge fire of logs blazed and roared in the chimney place; there was a bustle of serving men and women, and over all, the fat landlord beamed smilingly.
“A cold night, sir,” said this worthy, to Ben, with a little bow, “a cold night for the road, young gentleman.”
“Cold enough,” replied Ben, cheerily. “And your excellent fire is none amiss, landlord.”