He once more repeated the whistle, but with two or three peculiar shakes
or variations, when almost instantly one of a similar character was
given in reply.

"Thank God," he exclaimed, "be they friends or foes, we have human
creatures not far from us. Take courage, sir. How do you feel?"

"Frozen and chilled almost to death," replied his master; "I'll give
fifty pounds to any man or party of men that will conduct us safely
home."

"I hope in the Almighty," said Andrew to himself in an anxious and
apprehensive tone of voice, "that it's not Parrah Ruah (Red Patrick),
the red Rapparee, that's in it, and I'm afeered it is, for I think I
know his whistle. There's not a man in the three baronies could give
such a whistle as that, barring himself. If it is, the masther's a gone
man, and I'll not be left behind to tell the story, God protect us!

"What are you saying, Andy?" asked his master: "What were you muttering
just now?"

"Nothing, sir, nothing; but there can be no harm, at all events, to look
to our pistols. If there should be danger, let us sell our lives like
men."

"And so we will, Andy. The country I know is in a disturbed and lawless
state, and ever since that unfortunate affair of the priest, I know I am
not popular with a great many. I hope we won't come across his Rapparee
nephew."