It was still very early. The generality of the inhabitants were not yet up, and Winny sighed at the long sad day which was before her. She had first made her father tell her how the ruffians had served him, and after hearing the particulars she detailed everything which had befallen herself. She described the battle at the bridge, as well as her sobs would permit her, from the moment that Lennon sprang up from behind the battlement to their rescue until the fatal arrival of the police, as she called it, upon the approach of whom "that demon fired his pistol at my poor Emon as close as I am to you, father."
"Well, well; Winny, don't lave the blame upon the police; he would have fired at Lennon whether they cum up or not, for Emon never would have let go his holt."
"True enough, father. I do not lay it upon them at all. Emon would have clung to his horse for miles if he had not shot him down."
"Beside, Jamesy says the police has him fast enough. Isn't that a mercy at all events, Winny?"
"It is only the mercy of revenge, father, God forgive me for the thought. The law will call it justice."
"And a just revenge is all fair an' right, Winny. He had no pity on an innocent boy, an' why should you have pity on a guilty villain?"
"Pity! No, father, I have no pity for him. But I wish I did not feel so vengeful."
"But how did the police hear of it, Winny, or find out which way they went; an' what brought Jamesy Doyle up with them?"
"We must ask Jamesy himself about that, father," she said; and she desired Biddy to call him in, for he was with Bully-dhu.
Jamesy was soon in attendance again, and they made him sit down, for with all his pluck he looked weary and fatigued. They then asked him to tell everything, from the moment he first heard the men smashing the door.