The Tithe-Proctor Part 24

"I can't hear them plain enough," she said, on her return, "but whatever it is, I can undherstan' that the most of them all is against it. In G.o.d's name, at any rate, stay where you are--they're risin' to go home, and as the night's light they'd be sure to pounce upon you if you attempted to escape. Whatever I can do to save you from harm here I will."

The poor woman's escape from detection, while performing the friendly office of listening, was indeed very narrow. Short and hurried as her last advice to M'Carthy was, the words in which she conveyed it had scarcely been uttered, when her husband, accompanied by three persons, their faces still blackened, made his appearance. They took seats in silence around the fire, and one of them, handing over a bottle of whiskey to Finnerty, merely nodded, as much as to say, pa.s.s that about.

Finnerty accordingly did so, and each of them drank a gla.s.s or two, after which they were silent as before. This silence, to M'Carthy, began to wear a solemn and a fearful aspect, especially as he knew enough of the habits of the people to be aware, that in drinking whiskey is often resorted to in order to deaden their moral, perceptions, or, in other words, as a stimulant to crime.

At length, after about a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and three of them--that is to say, two of the strangers and Finnerty--had each drank three gla.s.ses of spirits, the fourth, who had taken only one gla.s.s, beckoned to the other two to follow him.

"I think," said he, "they are all gone, and the coast is clear."

In this man's voice, M'Carthy, to his infinite delight, once more recognized that of his unknown well-wisher. Be this as it may, he and the other two left the house, and, as the reader is no doubt interested in their movements, we shall permit him to follow them to the dining-room of the shooting-lodge, where the meeting had just been held.

"Very well, then," he proceeded, "it is so best, as none of us can become a traitor against the rest. Shew me your pistols; for, as I'm an ould soger, I'll regulate them for you better than you'll be able to do yourselves."

He accordingly took their pistols, examined them closely, fixed the powder in the pans, adding' a fresh supply of priming from a little goat's horn which he carried in his-pocket. He then took out his own, which he simply looked at, and again returned to his pocket.

"Now," said he, "our best plan is to take him about the small o' the back, when he's before us, one only at a time; you," said he, addressing the tallest, "will fire first; you,"--to the other--"next if he misses him; and, as I'm the boy that doesn't miss my mark, I'll take him down, never fear, if he should escape either of you. Come now, let us go in and get him to his legs, that we may start."

On making their appearance again, Finnerty approached M'Carthy, and exclaimed as before, but on this occasion with a loud and earnest voice, "Come, sir, get up if you plaise; it's time for you to meet the car." To this M'Carthy made no reply.

"Come, sir," repeated Finnerty, "bounce; hillo, I say, Mr. M'Carthy; up wid you, sir, the car will be waitin' for you;" and he gave him a slap on the shoulder as he spoke.

"Hallo!" exclaimed the pretended sleeper, "have a care--easy,'

easy--what's that? who are you?--eh--aw--oh, dear me, where am I?"

"In a friend's house, sir; get up, you know Mr. Purcel's car is waitin'

for you at the mountain road below."

M'Carthy started to his feet, and on looking about him, exclaimed, "How is this, Finnerty? why are the faces of these men blackened?"

"Never you mind that, sir," replied Finnerty, "they are two or three poor fellows that's on their keepin' in regard to havin' paid their t.i.thes against the will o' the people; an' they don't wish to be known, that's all."

"Well," replied M'Carthy, "that's their own affair, and neither yours nor mine, Finnerty. Come, then, are you ready? for I am."

"These boys, Mr. M'Carthy, has promised to take the best care of you while in their company, an' as they're goin' to the mountain road, where your're to meet the car, they'll bring you safe, sir."

"Most certainly not, Finnerty," replied the other; "I shall be escorted by no person or persons ashamed to show their faces. If you refuse to come, you break your word with me; but, in any event, I shall not travel with these men. I am too well aware of the disturbed state of the country, and that, being a friend of Mr. Purcel, I may not be popular. I consider myself, however, under your protection and under the protection of your roof, and for this reason I shall hold you accountable for my safety; and, at all events, unless you insist on expelling me, I shall remain where I am until morning."

"Why, if you insist upon it, I'll go," replied Finnerty, and four friends about you will be betther and safer than one; but in troth, to tell you the truth, Mr. M'Carthy, I'm a'most fairly knocked up myself, havin' been down the counthry and through the hills the greater part of the day. I have a great number of cattle to look afther, an' am seldom off my foot."

"Don't, sir," said his wife, in tones which were now perfectly intelligible to him, "don't ax poor Frank to go wid you tonight; you'll be as well widout him, especially as the night's so bright and clear; he's tired indeed, and, be the same token, I don't like to be here in the clouds of the night, wid n.o.body wid me but myself."

"If you're a gentlemen, sir," said the friendly voice, "you won't take this honest man from his wife at such an hour o' the night. If you take my advice too, I'd recommend you to come along wid ourselves at wanst."

There was no mistaking the friendly voice embodied in these words, as well as in those of Mrs. Finnerty. M'Carthy accordingly replied:--

"Very, well, Finnerty, I will proceed with these men. I should indeed be sorry to cause you any additional fatigue, or to fetch you from your house at such an hour. I will therefore put myself under the protection and guidance of these worthy fellows, who, I hope, will remember that although a friend to Mr. Purcel personally, yet I am none to any harshness he may have resorted to for the recovery of his t.i.thes."

"There's n.o.body here," replied the still friendly voice, "inclined to offer you any offense, bekaise you happen to be a friend to Mr.

Purcel"--and there was a marked emphasis laid upon the name--"so now,"

the voice proceeded, "you may make your mind aisy on that head."

A singular but significant laugh proceeded, from the other two, which, however, was repressed by a glance from "the friend," who said, "Come, boys, turn out; now, sir, the sooner we get over this journey the betther."

"Well, Finnerty," said M'Carthy, "many thanks for the hospitable shelter of your house, and to you also, Mrs. Finnerty, for your kindness and the trouble I have occasioned you."

Mrs. Finnerty's voice had now nearly abandoned her; and, as our young sportsman, after having shaken hands with her husband, now paid that compliment to herself, he perceived that the poor creature's hand was literally pa.s.sive and cold as ice, whilst the words she attempted to utter literally died away unspoken on her lips.

Having got about a mile from the house, his unknown friend began to become loquacious, and related several anecdotes of successful escape from the meshes and minions of the law, a theme in which his two companions seemed to take singular delight; for they laughed immoderately at every recorded victory in outwitting the legal functionaries aforesaid.

"I was wanst upon a time," he proceeded, "taken up for a resky; (* a rescue) the case bein' you see, that we wanted the rent and the landlord wanted patience; so begad, at any rate, we gev the b.l.o.o.d.y bailiffs a thrifle for themselves, and the consequence was that we brought the cows back to a neighbor's place that belonged to another property, and the four bailiffs, poor creatures, lay upon the ground lookin' at us, an'

never said ill we did it, for a raison they had; do you undherstand, boys?"

"Ay, we do undherstand; the bloddy thieves; divil break his neck that invinted rint, anyhow; sure there's no harm in wis.h.i.+n' that, the villain."

"Ay, an' tides," (* t.i.thes) replied the other; "however, we'll settle that first, and then the rents will soon follow them; an' sure there's no harm in that aither."

"Well an' good:--no, divil a harm's in it;--well an' good: to make a long story short, they grabbed me in a house up in the mountains--not unlike Finnerty's, I think that's his name--where I was on my keepin'; so what 'ud you have of it, but we were comin' acra.s.s the hills, jist as it might be said we are now--only there's none of us a prisoner, thank goodness--hem! Well, I said to myself, hit or miss, I'll thry it; I have a pair o' legs, an' it won't be my fault or I'll put them to the best use: an' for that raison it'll be divil take the hindmost wid us. Now listen, boys; I started off, an' one fellow that had a pistol let bang at me, but long life to the pistol, divil a one of it would go off; bang again came the other chap's, but 'twas ditto repaited, and no go any more than the other. Well, do you know now, that the third fellow--for there was only three af them, I must tell you--the third fellow, I'm inclined to think, was a friend at bottom; for the devil a one of him struv to break his heart in overtakin' me. Well, by that manes, I say, I got off from two of as double-distilled villains as ever wor born to die by suspin-sion."

This narrative, the spirit of which was so acceptable to his two companions, and, if truth must be told, equally so to the third, was treasured up by M'Carthy, who felt that it ingeniously but cautiously pointed out to him the course he should adopt under his own peculiar circ.u.mstances. The consequence was, that on coming within about a couple of furlongs of a dark, narrow, thickly-wooded glen, through which he knew they must pa.s.s, he bolted off at the top of his speed, which, although very considerable for a man whose strength had been so completely exhausted by fatigue and the unusual slavery of that day's wandering through the mountains, was, notwithstanding, such as would never have enabled him to escape from his companions.

He had not gone a perch when the click of a pistol was heard, but no report; the fact having been, that the pistol missed fire, and did not go off.

"D--n your blood!" exclaimed the "friend" to the other, "fire, and don't let him escape;" the ruffian did so when click No. 2 was heard, but as before no report.

"Aisy," said the fellow who had fired first, pulling out a long Spanish dagger; "an inch or two of this is as safe as a bullet, any day; and by j.a.pers he won't escape it." He sprang after M'Carthy as he spoke, followed by his companion. The third man stepped a pace or two to the right, and levelling a long double-barrelled pistol, deliberately fired, when McCarthy's first pursuer fell; the second man, however, with that remarkable, quickness of wit which characterizes the Irish, in their outrages as well as in their pastimes, suddenly stooped, and taking the dreadful dagger out of the hands of the wounded man, continued the pursuit bounding after his foe with a spirit of vengeance and ferocity, now raised to the highest pitch. The stranger, seeing that M'Carthy was still in equal danger if not in still greater, for the now infuriated ruffian was gaining upon him, once more levelled his pistol--fired--and, as before, down came the intended a.s.sa.s.sin. He himself then sprang forward, as if in pursuit of M'Carthy, exclaiming, "h.e.l.l and fury, why did yez keep between me and him--I think he's. .h.i.t; give me that dagger, and I'll go bail I'll make his body soon put six inches of it out of sight," and having uttered, these words, he rushed forward, as if in pursuit of their victim.

After he had left them, the following brief dialogue took place between these two worthies:--

"Hourigan, blazes to me but I'm shot."

"h.e.l.l's perdition to the unlucky villain--so am I--where are you shot, Mark?"

"By j.a.pers, the blood's pourin' out from me in the thigh, an' I'm afeard I'm done for--blast his unlucky hand, the villain; I wisht I had my dagger in him. Where are you shot, Darby?"

"Oh, vo--vo--on the right hip--but--oh, sweet Jasus, what will become of us if we're to die here--may the devil clap his cruibs (* Talons; claws) in the sowl of him that done it!"

"Amin, I pray the blessed Saviour this night! Do you think, Darby, he was a traitor, and done it a purpose?"

"Oh, mavrone, oh!--if I die widout the priest, what 'ud become o' me, an' all the sins I have to answer?"

"I say, was the villain a traitor, do you think?"

"Mavrone, oh!--blessed Lord forgive me--well--I can hardly think so--didn't he volunteer along wid yourself an' myself--oh, sweet Jasus!

what a life I lead--oh, Mark Ratigan, Mark Ratigan, what will become o'

me!---I swore away the lives of two innocent men--I proved three alibis for three of as black villains as ever stretched a rope or charged a blunderbus.h.!.+ 'Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come'--oh, Lord! forbid that yet a while! could you join in a _Leadhan wurrah?_"

"Blast you, you thick-headed vagabone! don't you know it's wrong to call me Mark Ratigan--isn't Phil Hart my name now?--no, I tell you, that I can't join you in a _Leadhan wurrah_--nor I didn't think you wor such a d--d cowardly hound as you are--can't you die--if you're goin' to die--like a man, an' not like an ould woman? Be my sowl, Darby, my boy, afther this night I'll never trust you again. It's yourself that 'ud turn traitor on your country and her cause, if you got the rope and hangman at your nose."

"Holy Mary, mother of G.o.d! pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amin! Oh, sweet Jasus! have pa.r.s.ecution 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?"