"Sure, yer honours, its some koind o' baste that useth a dagger with too great a fradom.
"Loy quoite, ye spalpeen, or Oi'll tramp the dawg's loife out o' ye with the hale o' moy boot!"
"Open still further the flap of the tent," I commanded Michael. Then, speaking to the prostrate form upon the ground, I said:—
"Arise sirrah, and tell us truthfully what is thy name, and what thy business here at this unseemly hour."
He slowly rose. Then, as Michael opened wider the tent door, the bright moon's rays fell on the shining blade of a dagger lying at my feet.
"What means this dagger, sirrah?" and I stooped to pick it up.
"Hold! Beware there, Michael!" cried Harleston, as he dashed after the stranger, which had taken advantage of my stooping, to attempt to make good his escape.
Michael, who was outside of the tent, making fast the flap, sprang after the fugitive with the speed of a horse. Almost he had the knave by the collar when, as fortune would have it, his foot caught upon one of the cords which served in securing the tent from being blown to the ground, and fell headlong upon his face, with as great a noise as that made by a falling tree. Harleston, at the same instant, dashed at full speed from the tent and, tripping on the fallen Michael, fell with his full weight upon my squire, thereby adding nothing to that angry person's comfort.
"Uh!" said Michael, "this is that damned raven's work. 'Tis useless; the varmint must escape; all Hill is with him."
I heard no more; but, leaving Harleston and Michael to regain their feet, I hastened in pursuit of the owner of the dagger. He was at that moment disappearing among the scores of tents with which this part of the field was filled. I pursued him until I realized how impossible it was to here find anyone desirous of escaping capture, and then giving up the attempt I returned to my own tent.