Commodore Junk. Fenn George Manville

and got sent out here. Run, ye divils, run! But, I say: if we’re tuk, and it comes to a thrial – court martial, ye know – be fair to a boy, now, won’t ye?”

      “What do you mean?” said Bart, gruffly.

      “Remimber that it was you made me desart. I couldn’t help meself, could I?”

      Bart did not answer, but kept on with his steady, lumbering trot, which was the more laborious to him from the shortness of his fetters making it difficult to him to keep up with his companions.

      “Bedad, they’re well on the scent!” said the Irishman, gazing back as he ran; “and it’ll not be long before they’re up with us. What’ll we do at all?”

      “Do?” said Bart, gruffly; “leave you to tell that cursed brute that we sha’n’t want his whip any more; for – ”

      “Hush!” cried Abel,

      “Ay, I forgot,” said Bart, nodding his head.

      “We’ll have to get up the trees before the dogs reach us, or it’ll be awkward for the whole three. They’ll forget to respect the king’s uniform in the dark. It’s no good, my lads; they’ll take us, and ye’ve had all your throuble for nothing. Faix, and I’m sorry for ye, whativer ye did, for it’s a dog’s life ye lead.”

      “Silence, man,” whispered Abel. “Do you want the dogs to be on us?”

      “Divil a bit, sor; but they’ll be down on us soon widout hearing us talk. Murther, but it’s a powerful shensh of shmell they have. How they are coming on!”

      It was quite true. The dogs were after them with unerring scent, and but for the fact that they were in leashes so that those who held them back might be able to keep up, they would have soon overtaken the fugitives. They were at no great distance as it was, and their baying, the encouraging shouts of their holders, and the sight of the lanterns rising and falling in the darkness, helped the Irishman’s words to send despair into the fugitives’ hearts.

      “Sure, and we’re in the coffee-tree gyarden!” said the sentry. “Oi know it by the little bits of bushes all in rows. Thin the wood isn’t far, and we’ll get up a tree before the bastes of dogs come up to us. Hark at the onnat’ral bastes; sure, it’s supper they think they’re going to have. Maybe they’d like to taste a Kelly.”