“Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army,” cried Yates, taking Renmark’s arm; and they began their march through the woods. “Great Caesar! Stilly,” he continued to his friend, “this is rest and quiet with a vengeance, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER XVI.
The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in the presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something like military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not as trimly kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, but three times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this line was a triumph. He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When all attempts at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in go-as-you-please fashion, and found they did better without the light than with it. In fact, although it was not yet four o’clock, daybreak was already filtering through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly lighter.
“We must be getting near the camp,” said the captain.
“Will I shout, sir?” asked Murphy.
“No, no; we can’t miss it. Keep on as you are doing.”
They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on among the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle echoed through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads.
“Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?” cried the alderman, who recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back.