CHAPTER II. The Cooleen Baum.

The old man became very little wiser by the information of his servant, and said in reply, “I hope, Andy, he’s not a Papist;” but checking the unworthy prejudice—­and in him such prejudices were singularly strong in words, although often feeble in fact he added, “it matters not—­we owe our lives to him—­the deepest and most important obligation that one man can owe to another.  I am, however, scarcely able to stand; I feel be-numbed and exhausted, and wish to get home as soon as possible.”

“Mr. Reilly,” said Andy, “this gentleman is very weak and ill; and as you have acted so much like a brave man and a gentleman, maybe you’d have no objection to see us safe home.”

“It is my intention to do so,” replied Reilly.  “I could not for a moment think of leaving either him or you to the mercy of this treacherous man, who dishonors a noble name.  Randal,” he proceeded, addressing the Rapparee, “mark my words!—­if but a single hair of this gentleman’s head, or of any one belonging to him, is ever injured by you or your gang, I swear that you and they will swing, each of you, from as many gibbets, as soon as the course of the law can reach you.  You know me, sir, and my influence over those who protect you.  As for you, Fergus,” he added, addressing one of the Rapparee’s followers, “you are, thank God! the only one of my blood who has ever disgraced it by leading such a lawless and guilty life.  Be advised by me—­leave that man of treachery,rapine, and murder—­abandon him and re-form your life—­and if you are disposed to become a good and an industrious member of society, go to some other country, where the disgrace you have incurred in this may not follow you.  Be advised by me, and you shall not want the means of emigrating.  Now begone; and think, each of you, of what I have said.”

The Rapparee glanced at the noble-looking young fellow with the vindictive ferocity of an enraged bull, who feels a disposition to injure you, but is restrained by terror; or, which is quite as appropriate, a cowardly but vindictive mastiff, who eyes you askance, growls, shows his teeth, but has not the courage to attack you.

“Do not look at me so, sir,” said Reilly; “you know I fear you not.”

“But the meantime,” replied the Rapparee, “what’s to prevent me from putting a bullet into you this moment, if I wish to do it?”

“There are ten thousand reasons against it,” returned Reilly.  “If you did so, in less than twenty-four hours you would find yourself in Sligo jail—­or, to come nearer the truth, in less than five minutes you would find yourself in hell.”

“Well, now, suppose I should make the trial,” said the Rapparee.  “You don’t know, Mr. Reilly, how you have crossed me to-night.  Suppose now I should try—­and suppose, too, that not one of you three should leave the spot you stand on only as corpses—­wouldn’t I have the advantage of you then?”