"We had, Larry," he said, with a smile. "We shall find it rougher work
now."
"We shall, yer honour.
"I was thinking to myself," he said, confidentially, "that if you might
be wanting to send a bit of a letter, it's meself could easily make a
boat, with some osiers and the skin of that bullock we had given us for
the rations of the troops today."
"Send a letter, Larry! Who should I be sending a letter to?"
"Sure yer honour knows better than me. I thought maybe you would be
liking to let the young lady know how we're getting on now, and to find
out whether her father has come home, and how things are going. Yer
honour will excuse me, but it just seemed natural that you should be
wishing to send a line; and a sweeter young lady never trod the sod."
Walter could not help laughing at the gleam of quiet humour in Larry's
face.
"I don't know, lad. You have pretty well guessed my thoughts; but it
can't be. The opposite bank will be swarming with William's men--it would
be a most dangerous business. No, it's not to be thought of."
"Very well, yer honour, it's just as you like; but you have only got to
hand me a bit of paper, and give me a wink of your eye, and I will do it.
As to William's sodgers, it's little I fear them; and if all one hears of
their doings be true, and I had a pretty young creature a mile away from
me, with those blackguards round about her, it's anxious I should be for
a line from her hand;" and Larry got down from his seat, and began to
walk away towards the village.
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