Gillooly and Klitz were seated on the ground opposite each other, with the fire between them. The Irishman was holding up a piece of venison, which he had just cooked, at the end of a stick, while Klitz held another piece to the fire.
“Arrah! now, this illigint piece of meat will be enough to last us until we stop again for the night!” exclaimed Gillooly. “I’ll race you now, and see who can get his whack down the fastest. If I win, you must hand over to me what remains of yours; and if you win, you shall have the remainder of my whack.”
“Dat would not be fair,” answered Klitz. “You got big mout and short body, and can stow away much faster dan I. You eat your breakfast as fast as you like, but let me take mine at my ease.”
“Arrah! thin, here goes,” cried Gillooly; and he began gnawing away with right good will at the lump of venison.
It was pretty evident that either he or Klitz must have managed to kill a deer, judging from the ample supply of meat they appeared to possess. Their rifles lay at a little distance, and close to their wheel-barrow, which seemed to be well loaded. There was no danger, therefore, of their firing at us before they discovered who we were; and, besides, they were not likely men to offer any determined resistance.
We amused ourselves for some little time in watching them; and certainly no two individuals could have afforded a greater contrast. Gillooly went on eating, laughing, and drinking, diverting himself by quizzing his saturnine companion, who replied only occasionally, and in monosyllables.
“We have had enough of this,” at length whispered the officer to me. “If you will seize the Irishman, I will manage the Dutchman. Hold your pistol to Gillooly’s head, and he will be as quiet as a lamb. I will treat Klitz in the same way.”
To bound over the trunk was the work of a moment, and the two deserters, greatly to their astonishment and dismay, found themselves in our power, without any hope of escape.
“Where were you going, you rascals?” exclaimed the lieutenant.
“Sure, your honour, a military life disagreed intirely wid me health, and I thought it best to take French leave, to save me comrades the trouble of burying me,” answered Barney. “Sure, I niver dreamed of deserting.”