“Holy Mary, mother of God! pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amin! Oh, sweet Jasus! have parsecution on me this night, an' spare me if it's your blessed will, till I get time to repint properly anyhow. Mark, darlin', are you gettin' waker, for I am?”
“To blazes wid you, and don't bother me—no, I'm not—I've tied my handkerchy about the place I was shot in, an' stopped the blood—eh—here—well done, Mark—hem—Phil Hart, I mane—bravo—see—that now—instead of bleatin' like a dyin' sheep, I've stopped the blood, an' here I am able to stand and walk. Come,” said he, approaching his companion, “where are you shot?—let us see?”
He stooped down, and on examining the Wound by the light of the moon, perceived at once that it was not all imagination and evil conscience. He consequently forced him to his legs, then bound up the wound with the fellow's handkerchief just as he had done his own, and in a few minutes they were able to resume their journey, slowly, it is true, and on the part of Ratigan, whose wound was the more serious, with a good deal of difficulty and pain, notwithstanding his hardihood.
In the meantime, M'Carthy was soon overtaken by the friendly Whiteboy, whose speed; of foot was indeed extraordinary. On seeing, the dagger in his pursuer's hand—for such he deemed him to be—he had prepared himself for resistance, the fact being, than in consequence of their blackened faces, and the state of perturbation and excitement in which he felt himself, he was in no condition to recognize any of the party unless by their voices.
“Don't be alarmed,” exclaimed the stranger, approaching him, “I have saved your life for this night most likely, by takin' the, life of them that intended to murder you.”
“I certainly feel,” replied M'Carthy, “that I owe my life to you, and I know not what return I can make you for it. But why should I speak so, since I am ignorant of your name, as well as of everything whatsoever concerning you? As to the other two persons, I cannot understand why they should attempt to murder me, as I am not conscious of having given offence to, any person.”
“You have never given offence to them,” replied the stranger; “but unfortunately this, part of the country's in such a state of feelin' at the present time, that it's as aisy to find one man to murdher another as it would be to get a man to shoot a dog. No, sir; you never offended these men, but they were set on to take your life by a man who hates you.”
“Well, since you have been on more than one occasion so generous to me, can you not let me know who that person is?”
“No, sir; that man has a hundred—ay, ten hundred eyes through the counthry—in the shape of spies—and five times as many hands any time he may wish for them. You may thank a friend of yours for sendin' me to save your life this night. Your family have been friends to him and to me too, although you don't know it. As for me, I go with him heart an' hand in puttin' down the tithes, but I'll always save the life of a friend, if I can; and indeed I have been forced to shoot these two men, in ordher to save yours to-night. I must go now and see what state they're in—whether alive or dead; but before. I go, listen:—tell the procthor that he has a fearful account to meet, and that soon; let neither him nor his sons be fool-hardy; say to him, that the wisest thing he can do is to remove himself and his family into the town of Lisnagola; or, if he won't do that, to keep his house half-filled with fire-arms; for I tell you now, the time is not long till he'll need them all. Tell them not to go out at night at all, or even by day, unless well armed; and do you yourself take the same advice; and now good-night. But, listen again: there, you see, is the spot below there, where the car was to meet you; but there's no car in it, and even if there was, I wouldn't recommend you to go on it; and if you're goin' to O'Driscol's don't go up the avenue, but by the back way, behind the garden, for it's very likely there's another man—and a fearful man, on the look-out for you, in case you should be missed by us. Farewell, for the present.”
A few minutes brought this kind-hearted Whiteboy back to the spot where Hourigan and his companion, who was also his cousin, fell. He was a good deal surprised, but still highly gratified, at not finding them where they had fallen, as it was a 'proof to him that his aim at either had not been fatal, as he certainly had no intention of taking their lives, or of rendering them any greater injury than the infliction of such wound as might put an end to their pursuit of M'Carthy. On advancing a little farther, he saw them proceeding, by a different but shorter path towards the inland country; and being now satisfied, from their appearance, that they had not been mortally wounded, he left them to reach home as best they might, and proceeded himself in another direction.