“Is my father, is Turlogh Luinech O’Neill here, then?” asked the maiden, coming up.
“Thy father!” said the soldier gasping. “Why I took thee for— And art thou, then,” said he, pulling off his cap, “art thou—”
“Yes, yes,” said she, “I am Rose O’Neill. Pray say, is my father here?”
“Madam,” said he, “he left us a week ago for his Castle at Toome. Howbeit my lady—”
“Ludar,” said the maiden, “back to the boat, quick! I will not go in here.”
“Nay, fair angel,” said a voice at our side, “now we have found our truant bird, we must cage her.”
It was Captain Merriman himself, smirking, hat in hand.
Before he could well speak the words, Ludar had sprung at his throat, and hurled him to the ground.
Then ensued a pitiful uproar. The guard, in a moment, turned out upon us. It was useless for two men to stand against twenty; our McDonnells at the boat were beyond call. We fought as long as we could; nor was it till Ludar received a gun shot in his arm, and I a slash that laid bare my cheek-bone, that we knew the game was up. The maiden had been carried off into the house; the old nurse lay in a swoon; three men, besides the captain, were disabled. As for us, we could but stagger to the gateway more dead than alive. Once outside, the gate was closed. The guard from within sent a few flying shots after us, one of which lightened me of my little finger, and another missed Ludar’s knee. Then, seeing us gone and hearing the shouts of our McDonnells, who, at the noise of the shots, had come up to help us, they forbore to follow further and let us get clear.
And it was in this manner we brought Rose O’Neill safely to her father’s house at Castleroe.