“Oh, I fancy there are plenty more stills to be captured, Stapleton; and that’s good fun in its way, though it involves a good deal of marching and hard work.”

“And how are O’Connor and Desmond getting on?” Captain Morrison asked.

“I had a very good report of them this morning from the doctor, and now that you have come I shall take a trap and drive over and see them at once.  I had O’Connor’s orders not to leave here till you arrived.”

“You are to go back yourself to-morrow morning, Conway,” Captain Morrison said.  “You are to take the prisoners in with an escort of a corporal and ten men, and to hand them over to the civil authorities; which means, I suppose, that you are to take them to the prison.”

“I suppose I shall come straight out again?” Ralph asked.

“I should think so; for with all this still-hunting business three officers are wanted here.  But of course you will report yourself to the colonel and get orders.  Here are the orders he gave me to give you.  You are to start early, make a twenty-mile march, halt for the night, and go on again the first thing in the morning.  You are to hire a cart for the wounded prisoners, and to exercise the utmost vigilance on the way.  The men are to carry loaded muskets.  It is not likely there will be any attempt at a rescue; but such things have happened before now.  If anything of the sort should take place, and you find that you are likely to get worsted, your orders are that you are not to let the Red Captain be carried off alive.  Put a man specially over him, with instructions to shoot him rather than let him be taken away from him.  The colonel will hold you harmless.  The scoundrel has committed too many murders to be allowed to go free.”

“I understand,” Ralph said, “and will carry out the orders; and now I will be off at once, for it will be dark in an hour.”

Ralph was glad to find that the two officers were going on better than he had expected.  Lieutenant Desmond was already up, with his arm in splints and a great patch of plaster across his forehead.  O’Connor was still in bed, and was likely to remain so for some time.  The regimental surgeon was with him, having left the other two officers at the turn of the road leading to the village.

“I am glad to see you, Conway,” Captain O’Connor said cheerfully.  “I was expecting you.  The doctor said Morrison and Stapleton had gone on to Ballyporrit.  None the worse for your brush, I hope?”

“Not a bit,” Ralph said.  “The bump on my head caused by that musket blow hurt me a bit the first day or two, but it’s going down now.  I am glad to see you and Desmond looking so well.”

“Oh, we shall soon be all right; though I am afraid I shall be kept on my back for some little time.  Desmond is rather in despair, because he is afraid his beauty is spoiled; for the doctor says that cut on his forehead is likely to leave a nasty scar.  He would not have minded it if it had been done by a French dragoon saber; but to have got it from tumbling down a chimney troubles him sorely.  It will be very painful to him when a partner at a ball asks him sympathizingly in what battle he was wounded, to have to explain that he tumbled head foremost into a peat fire.”