“Yours is a sad story, but unfortunately a common one.  And how have you managed to live here?”

“There are plenty of potatoes, for the digging of ’em,” the man said, “for there are a score of ruined villages within a day’s walk.  As for meat, there are cattle for the taking, wandering all over the country; some have lately strayed away; but among the hills there are herds which have run wild since the days when Cromwell made the country a desert.  As for spirits, I brew them myself.  Barley as well as potatoes may be had for the taking.  Then, sometimes, the dog picks up a rabbit.  Sometimes, when we go down for potatoes, we light on a fowl or two; there’s many a one of them running wild among the ruins.  As far as eating and drinking goes, we never did better; and if I could forget the old cottage, and the sight that met my eyes when I went back to it, I should do well enough, but, night and day I am dreaming of it, and my heart is sore with longing for vengeance.”

“Why don’t you join the army?” Walter asked.  “There’s plenty of room for good men, and yesterday’s affair has made some vacancies in my own troop.

“What do you say, lads?  You would have a chance of crossing swords with the Enniskilleners, and you could always come back here when the war is over.”

“What do you say, boys?” the man asked his companions.  “I am just wearying for a fight, and I could die contented, if I could but send a few of those murdering villains to their place, before I go.”

The other two men at once agreed.  They talked well into the night, and Walter heard many tales of the savage butchery of unoffending peasants, by the men who professed to be fighting for religious liberty, which shocked and sickened him.

It was arranged that they should start on the following morning.  The men said that they could guide him across country to Dundalk without difficulty, and assured him that he would be little likely to meet with the enemy, for that the whole country had been so wasted, by fire and sword, as to offer but little temptation even to the most insatiable of plunderers.

Accordingly, the next morning they set out, and arrived late that evening at the camp.  Walter found that his father and his followers were absent.  They had returned, much surprised at not having been rejoined by Walter’s party, but on their arrival they had found there the survivors of his command, who had ridden straight for Dundalk.

After a few hours’ stay, to rest the horses, Captain Davenant, with his own men and two of the troops of cavalry, had ridden out in search of the Enniskilleners.  Larry, who had been almost wild with grief when the news of the surprise, and, as he believed, the death of Walter, had been brought in, had accompanied the cavalry.

It was late on the following afternoon before they rode into camp.  Larry was the first to come in, having received permission from Captain Davenant to gallop on ahead.  They had met the enemy, and had inflicted a decisive defeat upon them, but the greater part had escaped, by taking to the hills on their wiry little horses, which were able to traverse bogs and quagmires impassable to the heavy troopers.