“It was by a chance blow he hit me,” said the Rapparee—­“by a chance blow.”

“By a couple dozen chance blows,” replied the other; “you know he knocked you down as fast as ever you got up—­I lave it to the boys here that wor present.”

“There’s no use in denyin’ it, Randal,” they replied; “you hadn’t a chance wid him.”

“Well, at all events,” observed the Rapparee, “if he did beat me, he’s the only man in the country able to do it; but it’s not over, curse him—­Ill have another trial with him yet.”

“If you take my advice,” replied Reilly, “you’ll neither make nor meddle with him.  He’s the head o’ the Catholics in this part of the country, and you know that; aye, and he’s their friend, and uses the friendship that the Protestants have towards him for their advantage, wherever he can.  The man that would injure Willy Reilly is an enemy to our religion, as well as to every thing that’s good and generous; and mark me, Randal, if ever you cross him in what he warned you against this very night, I’ll hang you myself, if there wasn’t another livin’ man to do it, and to the back o’ that again I say you must shed no blood so long as I am with you.”

“That won’t be long, then,” replied the Rapparee, pulling out a purse; “there’s twenty guineas for you, and go about your business; but take care, no treachery.”

“No,” replied the other, “I’ll have none of your money; there’s blood in it.  God forgive me for ever joinin’ you.  When I want money I can get it; as for treachery, there’s none of it in my veins; good-night, and remember my words.”

Having thus spoken, he took his way along the same road by which the old squire and his party went.

“That fellow will betray us,” said the Rapparee.

“No,” replied his companions firmly, “there never was treachery in his part of the family; he is not come from any of the Queen’s O’Reillys.* We wish you were as sure of every man you have as you may be of him.”

* Catholic families who were faithful and loyal to Queen Elizabeth during her wars in Ireland were stigmatized by the nickname of the Queen’s friends, to distinguish them from others of the same name who had opposed her, on behalf of their religion, in the wars which desolated Ireland during her reign; a portion of the family of which we write were on this account designated as the Queen’s O’Reillys.

“Well, now,” observed their leader, “a thought strikes me; this ould squire will be half dead all night.  At any rate he’ll sleep like a top.  Wouldn’t it be a good opportunity to attack the house—­aise him of his money, for he’s as rich as a Jew—­and take away the Colleen Bawn?  We’ll call at Shane Bearna’s** stables on our way and bring the other boys along wid us.  What do you say?”