“This night, Jerry? why what do you mane? what about this night more than any other night?”

“Hut! you foolish girl,” replied Jerry, “sure you ought to know that it’s only a way of spakin’ we have, when we say this night or this day.”

“Ay,” replied Letty, with great shrewdness and in a spirit of keen observation, “if you had spoken that way, you’d have said this day, and not this night, bekaise it’s not night yet.”

Jerry smiled, and resolving to put an end to the conversation, exclaimed, “Troth and I’ll have a kiss from your lips, this day, and, if you vex me much more, another this night too;” and as he spoke, with a face of good-humor and affection, he contrived to suit the action to the word, after which Letty sprang beyond his reach, but pausing a moment ere she disappeared.  “Jerry, listen,” she proceeded, “don’t let Mr. M’Carthy come to harm either by night or day, if you can—­still an’ all remember that your own life is a dearer one—­to—­to—­yourself, at any rate, than anybody else’s is.”

Jerry nodded, and was about once more to lessen the distance between himself and her, when she immediately took to flight and disappeared, which was precisely what he wanted.

“God protect the young man!” he exclaimed, after she had gone, “for if that sleeveen villain is bent on doin’ him harm, or, as I ought to say, of bringin’ him among them, and especially to him that hates him like hell, this is the very night for it, and he has him on the spot too; well, we’ll see whether they’ll be back in time or not, for as Mr. M’Carthy is to dine here, Mogue at any rate must and ought to be home a little before dusk.  I’ll make preparation, however, and what can be done for him, I will do.”

In the meantime we shall follow our two sportsmen into the mountains for a time, in order to render justice to poor innocent Mogue, who little dreamt that a human being had suspected him.

M’Carthy, on entering the mountain, at first expressed a doubt to his companion that the circuit or sweep road by Shaun Bernha’s stables was rather extensive, and would occupy too much time, besides bringing them farther out of their way than it was his (M’Carthy’s) intention to go.

“You know, Mogue,” he observed, “I am to dine with Mr. Purcel to-day, and, if we go so far, I shall never be home in time for dinner.”

[Illustration:  PAGE 421—­ Just trust yourself to me]

“Never mind, sir,” replied his companion, “you don’t know all the short cuts of Sloebeens as well as I do.  My life for yours, I’ll take care that you won’t want your dinner or your supper aither, sir, I’ll go bail.  Just trust yourself to me, and if I don’t bring you to where the grouse, snipes, and hares is in thousands, never put faith in me again.”

M’Carthy, who had every confidence in Mogue, and, also, more than usual respect for him, in consequence of his apparent love of truth and religion, accompanied him without the slightest hesitation; feeling satisfied that his intimate acquaintance with the whole wild locality around them, was a proof that he would be able to keep his word.