Sir Ludar Part 53

This mute appeal, lying thus to greet me, roused the whole man in every pulse of my body. I seized the dear paper in my hands and kissed it, and then, placing both it and the maiden's scarf in my bosom, I dashed from the room with drawn sword and called my men to horse.

"To horse!" I cried, "and ride as you never rode before, men; for I vow to heaven I will not quit this saddle till I find the foul dog who has robbed me of my dearest jewel."

They obeyed quickly and cheerily, for the horror of that night had given them enough and to spare of Castleroe.

A mile through the forest road was a woodman's hut whose master looked out curiously to see us pa.s.s. It seemed to me worth while, being the first man we had met, to question him. So I ordered a halt.

"You are an O'Neill?" said I.

"Who told you so?" growled he in Irish; and I guessed from the look of him that he was the man I wanted.

I signalled to two of my men to dismount and seize him.

"Now," said I, fumbling my pistol, "time presses. Tell me which way the O'Neill has gone."

"How do I know?" said he.

I c.o.c.ked my pistol and laid it across my saddle.

"He went to Dublin, a month since," said the fellow, quickly.

"And the English Captain?"

He growled a curse, and said:

"He pa.s.sed here last night for Tyrone's country."

"And the Lady Rose O'Neill and her maid. Who carried them off, and when?"

He paused and looked doggedly at me.

I raised my pistol and laid it at his head.

"Two days since they rode hence under escort of three of the Captain's men."

"And whither went they?"

"The Captain knows. Follow him and you shall find them."

"Look you here," said I, "if what you say be true, you shall have your life. If not--"

"I'm no liar," said he, "and I curse the English."

"Then," said I, "help me and my men to save your chief's daughter, and slay yonder Captain."

He p.r.i.c.ked up his ears at that.

"'Tis too late, I doubt," said he. "The villain works quickly. 'Twere better to find the maids dead. It took him not many hours to rob this house of all its light."

"'Tis not too late so long as a breath is in this body," said I. "Come, take us to him, as you are a loyal clansman."

"I know no more than I have told you," answered he. "He is gone to Tyrone's country, and the maids have been carried thither before him. I will guide you so far."

Without more words he came, springing at our sides over the heather and along the mountain paths at a pace that put our nags to shame. 'Twas easy to follow the tracks of the soldiers on the wet ground; and once, towards evening, as we mounted a tall ridge, I fancied I could descry on the crest opposite some figures that moved.

At our first halting-place, where we paused but to give our horses and ourselves a hasty meal, we heard that about mid-day certain English soldiers had pa.s.sed the place at full gallop. And two days back, as night fell, some travellers, amongst whom rode two women, had likewise hurried by, westward.

With news such as this we could scarce afford our weary horses the rest they needed, before we set forth again. Our guide led us down a steep track into the valley, and then, striking straight across, we toiled up the mountain path which ascended the high ridge opposite.

He checked our pace as we neared the top, advising us to await daylight for the descent.

When at length at our backs rose the glorious sun over the eastern hills, flas.h.i.+ng his light past us into the valley below, we saw, stretched out, a great plain like a map, through which the windings of a river sparkled; while, beyond, rose another ridge of hills higher still than that on which we stood.

Our guide beckoned us to a place whence we could look-out without being exposed to the view of any one in the valley. For awhile we searched the plain in vain. Only a few herds drove their cattle afield; and now and then the sharp bark of a dog broke the stillness. At length, on the slope of the hill opposite, we saw a flock of sheep break suddenly into panic flight; and there appeared, crawling up the ascent, a body of hors.e.m.e.n, who, by the occasional glancing of the sun upon steel, we knew to be soldiers.

Whether they were the troops we sought, and whether amongst them they carried the captive maidens, 'twas too far to determine. But at sight of them we plunged with new hope towards the valley.

Half-way down, in a wood, we found a wounded trooper p.r.o.ne on the ground and gasping for breath; while beside him grazed his horse. He was bleeding from his side, and too faint to turn his head as we came up.

Our guide started as he saw him, and whispered:

"This is one of Merriman's men."

I knelt beside him and tried, in my clumsy way, to bind his wound, and help him back to life. But 'twas plain we were all too late for that.

He lay gasping in my arms, his eyes, already glazed, looking vacantly skyward, and his arms feebly tossing in his battle for breath. Twas no time for questions. I ventured but one:

"Where is O'Neill's daughter?" I asked in his ear.

He turned his head and stopped his panting for a moment.

"I could not save her," he gasped; "Merrim--" and here he fell back in my arms a dead man.

We covered him hastily with the fallen leaves, and, taking his horse for our guide's use, spurred grimly on.

There was no doubt now. The villain's plot had succeeded only too well, and the fair innocents were already delivered over to his clutches.

At a little cl.u.s.ter of houses in the valley we halted a moment longer.

"Has a troop pa.s.sed this way?" asked our guide of a cow-herd.

"Surely," said he, "they will scarce be over the hill by now."

"Carried they two women in their company?"

He laughed and said no.

"Have not two women been carried this way lately?"