Michael was still swearing, and cursing the raven for the luck that it had brought unto us.
"Hill! Whoy didn't Oi brake the varmint's skull, instid o' his arm? Thin the charm had bin browken. Now Gawd knows what'll be the nixt to curse us."
"Come, Michael," said Frederick, "no one is to blame for his escape. Thou didst do right nobly in the saving of our lives from being taken by the dagger of an assassin."
"But tell us," said I, "how thou didst learn of his presence here, and what he was doing when thou didst attack him."
"Will, sor, it was loike this:—Oi was awakened by some wan astippin' ouver moy chist, as though he feared to disturb me. At first, sor, Oi thought it must be ather thee or Sor Fridrick. Thin, thinks Oi to moysilf, what in the divil's name doth make Sor Walter or Sor Fridrick walk so cautious loike? He jist takes a stip in the doiriction o' thee, sor, and thin he stops and waits, whoilst wan moight count a score, as though he was alistenin' fer somethin'. 'Tis moighty strange that ather wan o' yer honours would go on loike that in yer own tint, sez Oi, to moysilf. This koind o' made me curious loike, so Oi jist sits up and watches him. Thin, Mither-o'-Gawd, sor! the blissid moon shines on a dagger in the varmint's hand. Thin, sor, Oi pounces upon him, and the varmint troid to stab me with his damned dagger. This made me lose moy timper, loike; so Oi jist gives him a rap on the arm, and sure, sor, the thing snapped loike a rotten branch astickin' from out the soide o' a dead tree. Thin, sor, Oi lays him down, akoind o' rough loike, and he thought he'd bitter stay thare. Jist at that toime yer honours wakened up, and ye know the rist as will, or bitter, than Oi do."
"Ah! Michael, my faithful friend, what should I do without thee? Thou hast saved my life, this night, and repaying that is beyond my power; unless thou art ever threatened, when I would save thee and risk mine own life, as thou hast done for me."
"Uh! sure, yer honour, dount talk loike that; Oi have no moure than done moy dooty. Sure it's ashamed o' moysilf Oi should be if Oi didn't crush a snakein' varmint loike that, whin he comes acrawlin' into moy master's tint, and roight ouver me, as though I wasn't thare to guard the door."
I could not help but laugh at the easy way in which Michael turned all the credit from himself. I grasped his hand, and slapped him on his huge shoulder. 'Twas useless to say anything more; and indeed my heart took all my speech away.
For this Michael seemed thankful. He betook himself to his position, across the opening of the tent, and, stretching himself at his ease, he soon forgot the part he had played in that night's almost tragedy.
However, Frederick and I sat up and conversed in low tones for some time after Michael had entered that happy land of oblivion, where troubles or plots—except sometimes those that have no reality—intrude not.