“Oh, indeed,” exclaimed the sheriff; “I wish to heaven you had been a little more advanced on your journey; you might have saved me from being plundered, as I have been, and probably secured the robber.”

“Could you observe, sir, what was the villain’s appearance?”

“I had a small lantern,” replied the functionary, “by which I caught a brief but uncertain glance of him.  I am not quite certain that I could recognize his features, though, if I saw him again—­but—­perhaps I might, certainly I could his dress.”

“How was he dressed, sir?” they inquired.

“Quite beyond the common,” said the sheriff; “I think he had on a brown coat, of superior cloth and make, and I think, too, the buckles of his slices were silver.”

“And his features, Mr. Sheriff?”

“I cannot exactly say,” he returned; “I was too much agitated to be able to recollect them; but indeed the dim glimpse I got was too brief to afford me an opportunity of seeing them with any thing like distinctness.”

“From the description you have given, sir,” said one of them, “the man who robbed you must have been Reilly the Outlaw.  That is the very dress he has been in the habit of wearing.  Was he tall, sir, and stout in person?”

“He was a very large man, certainly,” replied the sheriff; “and I regret I did not see his face more distinctly.”

“It can be no other, Mr. Sheriff,” observed the man; “the fellow has no means of living now, unless by levying contributions on the road.  For my part, I think the scoundrel can make himself invisible; but it must go hard with us or we will secure him yet.  Would you wish an escort home, Mr. Sheriff? because, if you do, we shall accompany you.”

“No,” replied the other, “I thank you.  I would not have ventured home unattended if the Red Rapparee had still been at his vocation, and his gang undispersed; but as he is now on the safe side, I apprehend no danger.”

“It’s not at all impossible but Reilly may step into his shoes,” said the cavalryman.

“I have now neither money nor arms,” continued the sheriff; “nothing the villain robbers could covet, and what, then, have I to fear?”

“You have a life, sir,” observed the man respectfully, “and if you’ll allow me to say it—­the life of a man who is not very well liked in the country, in consequence of certain duties you are obliged to perform.  Come, then, sir, we shall see you home.”

It was so arranged, and the sheriff reached his own residence, under their escort, with perfect safety.

This indeed was a night of adventure to Reilly—­hunted, as he was, like a beast of prey.  After what had taken place already in the early portion of it, he apprehended no further pursuit, and in this respect he felt his mind comparatively at ease—­for, in addition to any other conviction of his safety, he knew that the night was far advanced, and as the country was unsettled, he was not ignorant that the