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He found no garrison, but, instead, was met by old Turlough himself, with a bandaged head and two wounded men. "Mile failte!" cried Turlough joyously, running forward to kiss Brian's hand in wild delight. "You are well come, master! Is all well down below?" "All well, old friend," laughed Brian, swinging down to clasp the old man in his arms. "Where is the Dark Master?"
Many of them had gone down, indeed, but now all wakened from their nodding sleep and kept close, though here and there one dropped out. Turlough, whose steed had been the best of all save Brian's, kept at his master's flank. They were hard on Claregalway when Brian saw his quarry first a deep mass of men far ahead on an open stretch of road.
However, no ill came of it, for Brian was well used to riding, and the exercise gave him strength, though they made but a short march that day past the round tower of Drumcliff, halting in the hills. As Turlough Wolf knew where the Stone Mountain was they had no use for guides.
If the Dark Master reached Galway town in safety, those O'Donnells from Millhaven would be around by sea to meet him, and the royalists would lend him men and guns to go against Bertragh in their cause. "Is there any likelihood that the Dark Master will miss those scattered men of his?" he asked Turlough, who rode on his right hand. "Little, master.
He could find nothing ominous in that hunched figure, save its mail-coat and steel helm. Yet the face was peculiar. Over a drooping mustache of black flared forth two intense black eyes. Brian noted this, and the thin, curved nose and prominent chin, and laughed again. "Who is this Dark Master, Turlough?" The other shivered slightly.
Brian loosed another of the pigeons, telling Nuala how things chanced, and of the four pirate ships, and set the last bird in the tower in case of need, which proved a lucky thing for him in the end. Brian and his men slept after meat, while Turlough Wolf remained watching.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. Don't forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting a month. Nuala O'Malley by H. Bedford-Jones Author of "Malay Gold," "The Ghost Hill," "John Solomon, Supercargo," etc. This story began in the All-Story Weekly for December 30. "Then you are intent on this vengeance, master?" asked Turlough thoughtfully.
No more words passed between them, nor did Brian tell Turlough more of his story until long after; but of this there was no need.
But to Brian all these things were very small and hard to make out distinctly, as if he were looking at some carven mimicry, such as children are wont to use in play. "Now come," said Turlough Wolf. "It is no easy task getting there without being discovered, and the way is long."
"Where we shall catch him in a forked stick presently," chuckled Turlough, wagging his beard. "Get these wild men of yours out of the town, and come into the inn with me to talk. I have all the Dark Master's plans, master, and we have only to strike." Brian ordered his men to camp a mile outside town and to do no plundering, so they clattered off, to the great relief of the townfolk.
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