M'Carthy still shook his head, as if of opinion that they underrated the
Buck's power of injuring them, but the truth was that neither Purcel
nor his sons were at all capable of apprehending either fear or danger;
they, therefore, very naturally looked upon the denunciations of English
with a recklessness that was little less than foolhardy.

During the last few years they had been accustomed to receive threats
and written notices of vengeance, which had all ended in nothing, and,
in consequence of this impunity, they had become so completely inured to
them as to treat them only with laughter and scorn.

It has been already intimated to the reader that M'Carthy was residing,
during a short visit to the country, at the house of O'Driscol, the
newly-made magistrate. It was pretty late that evening when he took
leave of the Purcels, but as the distance was not far he felt no anxiety
at all upon the subject of his journey. The night, however, was so
pitchy dark, that even although well acquainted as he was with the
road, he found some difficulty in avoiding the drains and ditches that
enclosed it. At length he had arrived within a couple of hundred yards
of O'Driscol's house, when as he was proceeding along suddenly found
himself come unexpectedly against some individual, who was coming from
an opposite direction.

"Hillo! who is here?" said the voice, in a kind of whisper.

"A friend," replied M'Carthy; "who are you?"

"What's your name?" inquired the strange voice, "and be quick."

"My name is M'Carthy," replied our friend; "why do you ask?"