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Not that he isn't as brave as anything, little darlin'; he'd follow Terry through thick an' thin, if it was through the fire. But still an' all it never does be him that sets the mischief goin'." "But Turlough is only eight years old. Terry is ten, and two years of a bush life at that age make a great deal more difference than the count of the days," said Madam musingly.
There word had also gone forth against him, but because of the pact between them, Murrough of the Kine sped him in peace through Iar Connaught, and at length Brian had won home again with joyless heart. As Turlough said, men were coming, and they were Brian's own men who watched the roads.
Brian found, indeed, that to avoid being seen from below they must needs take a roundabout way; but when the afternoon was far spent they had come to a snow-filled hollow among the rocks which Turlough declared was just over the edge of that valley-slope where stood the low house. Turlough said that in his day that house had not stood there, and he knew nothing of it.
It was indeed, and it had cost Brian a round score of men, so that he followed Turlough out into the open land with less than a hundred men behind him. His fury abated before dawn, when they had splashed across the Moy and came upon the road once more, but he saw that the O'Donnells were willing enough to die if the Dark Master might escape, and he became more cautious.
If we throw part of our men on that camp at dawn and the rest upon the castle, the tables may yet be turned." "A good rede, Brian O'Neill," nodded the old Wolf approvingly. At thus hearing his name Brian flung Turlough one lightning-swift glance, then pulled out his Spanish sword and threw it high, and caught it again with a great shout. "Tyr-owen! Slainte!"
As he thundered down to the river Brian had drawn as much ahead of Turlough and the others as he was behind the Dark Master. He shouted back to those of his men whose matches were lit to loose off their muskets, but before the first pan had flashed out he saw the O'Donnells draw rein and wheel at the bridge-head, while two of their number drove clattering on into the town.
While the men were saddling, Brian called Turlough and told of the hag's word that she would meet him again "on a black day for him." "Now, what think you she meant by that, Turlough? Is this the meeting?" "No, master, for it is no meeting.
O'Donnell has no more than are in the castle, and a score of our own men are on the roads, watching for any ill." "How many men have we in all?" spoke up Lame Art O'Malley. "In our ships there are sixty men we can spare for land battle." "That gives us three hundred in all," replied Turlough to Nuala's questioning glance.
"I think the Dark Master has sent us a kindly gift," quoth Turlough Wolf, as Brian rose with horror in his face and let the seaman's body fall. "Now I know why that wine was sour, master!" TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. Don't forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the conclusion of this story without waiting a month. Nuala O'Malley by H. Bedford-Jones
Turlough suggested that they push on and finish their business at a stroke, but Brian curtly refused. So the men made camp in lee of a cliff and proceeded to feast away the last of their provisions and wine, in confidence that on the morrow they would have more, or else would need none.
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