would have thought himself incapable. The man continued whistling, at
short intervals, and did not notice Walter till he was within twenty
yards distant; then he turned sharply round.

"Who are you?" he asked, clubbing a heavy stick which he held in his
hand, and standing on the defensive.

The dress and appearance of the man assured Walter that he was a
Catholic, and therefore a friend, and he replied at once:

"I belong to one of the Irish troops of horse. The Enniskilleners
surprised a party of us, yesterday, and wounded me, as you see.
Fortunately, I escaped in the night, or they would have finished me this
morning. I have been out all night in the rain, and am weak from loss of
blood and hunger. Can you give me shelter?"

"That I can," the man said, "and gladly. Those villains have been killing
and destroying all over the country, and there's many a one of us who,
like myself, have been driven to take refuge in the bogs."

"Is it far?" Walter asked; "for I don't think I could get more than a
mile or two."

"It is not half a mile," the man said. "You do look nearly done for.
Here, lean on me, I will help you along; and if you find your strength
go, I will make a shift to carry you."

"It is lucky I heard you whistle," Walter said.

"It is, indeed," the man replied, "for it is not likely anyone else would