“Bartle Flanagan!” said a voice—“Bartle Flanagan, is it? An' who's the girl?”
“Blur an' agres, Alick Nulty, don't be too curious, she comes from Bodagh Buie's.”
Biddy, on hearing the voice of her brother, made another violent effort, and succeeded in partially working the gag out of her mouth—she screamed faintly, and struggled with such energy that her hands again became loose, and in an instant the gag was wholly I removed.
“Oh Alick, Alick, for the love o' God save me from Flanagan! it's me, your sisther Biddy, that's in it; save me, Alick, or I'll be lost; he has cut me to the bone wid a blow, an' the blood's pourin' from me.”
Her brother flew to her. “Whisht, Biddy, don't be afeard!” he exclaimed.
“Boys,” said he, “let my party stand by me; this is the way Bartle Flanagan keeps his oath!” (* One of the clauses of the Ribbon oath was, not to injure or maltreat the wife or sister of a brother Ribbonman.)
“Secure Bartle,” said Biddy. “He robbed Bodagh Buie's house, an' has the money about him.”
The horses were already on the road, but, in consequence of both parties filling up the passage in the direction which Bartle and nis followers intended taking, the animals could not be brought through them without delay and trouble, even had there been no resistance offered to their progress.
“A robber too!” exclaimed Nulty, “that's more of his parjury to'ards uz. Bartle Flanagan, you're a thraitor, and you'll get a thraitor's death afore you're much oulder. He's not fit to be among us,” added Alick, addressing himself to both parties, “an' the truth is, if we don't hang or settle him, he'll some day hang us.”
“Bartle's no thraitor,” said Mulvather, “but he's a thraitor that says he is.”