The night was dark, and Walter soon lost sight of the little boat. Then
he waited anxiously. He had, however, but little fear that the enemy
would have posted sentries so far down the river, especially as he would
only just have pitched his camp opposite Limerick.
It was three-quarters of an hour before he heard a faint splash in the
water. The sentry heard it, too.
"Shall I challenge, sir?"
"No. Wait for a minute. We shall soon see whether it is Larry. Should
there be anyone on the opposite bank, he might hear the challenge, and
they would keep a sharp lookout in future."
The sound came nearer and nearer.
"Who goes there?" Walter said in a quiet voice.
"'Wicklow!' and it's mighty glad I am to hear your voice, for it's so
dark I began to think I had lost myself entirely."
"Is all well, Larry?" Walter asked, as the light boat touched the bank.
"All is well, your honour," Larry said, stepping ashore, and lifting the
light boat on to his head.
"You had better stow it away close here, Larry, till the morning. It's so
dark that you will be sure to pitch over something, if you go further.
"Now, tell me all about it," he went on, as Larry stowed away the boat
among some bushes.
"There is little enough to tell, yer honour.
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