When this much was ascertained, Barry was deliberating as to what had become of the remaining three of his party, when they returned to the scene of conflict, weary with a fruitless chase. These men instantly took up their comrades and bore them down to the brook, where they were refreshed with a cooling draught. Barry, finding that it would be dangerous for them to remain to bury the dead, as the noise of their rifles might have attracted the attention of some other body of the enemy that might possibly be somewhere in the vicinity of the ravine, determined to retrace his steps at once. His two wounded companions, like his prisoner, were able to walk slowly towards the camp; so, collecting the enemy's dead into one place, and covering them with branches of evergreens, they took up the body of their fallen comrade and, placing it on a litter hastily formed of boughs gathered on the spot, slowly wended their way with it towards the point occupied by the main body of the army—Barry and his prisoner moving in the same direction, some distance in the rear.



CHAPTER XIII.

In the morning that Greaves visited the Fort in Canada, garrisoned by Barry's regiment, it will be remembered that he had a brief interview with the Colonel. Momentary as it was, however, it was sufficient to prevent Barry from getting his discharge; for the Colonel was then and there apprised that our hero sought to leave the army for the purpose only of joining the anticipated Fenian invasion, giving it the advantage of his military skill, and aiding it with his knowledge of the fortifications that the invaders might attempt to posses themselves of. On being persuaded, through a glance at a certain document placed in his hands, that Greaves was to be trusted, he at once decided as to the course that he himself ought to pursue, and the reader has already seen the result. Strange as it may appear for the present, it was Greaves' object to induce Barry to desert, and thereby shut himself out from ever revisiting the British dominions again. He felt that it would be better, too, that he should not be taken while in the act of deserting; as his punishment could be but light, owing to the circumstance, that he had endeavored, though in vain, to obtain his discharge honorably; so he determined to aid his escape from the Fort, and secure his outlawry beyond any possibility of mistake. Why he was prompted to an act so gratuitous and so apparently undeserved, remains for future explanation; but, at present, all we have to do with is the simple fact, that owing to his mysterious machinations, our young hero was driven to the step he had taken.

It is, we perceive, a fact, that O'Brien was correct in his first estimate of Greaves; as that smooth-tongued traitor was the notorious spy in the pay of the English government, sent out to Canada with a view to learning the particulars of the power and intentions of Fenianism in the Provinces, as well as in the adjoining Republic. In this connection, he had such papers in his possession as recommended him to the Canadian Minister who gave him, on his arrival in the city where we first encountered him, such assistance and direction as his maudlin state of mind could afford. He recommended him to the confidence of many persons in the upper part of the Province, where he had been staying for some time previous to his appearance at The Harp. Among these was the Hon. J. R——-, of Toronto—a Patrick's Day Son of the Sod, who has often nailed Ireland to the cross for place and power; and who regards every body as his "dear friend" who can help him up the ladder—a man with no more human flesh about his bones or heart within him, than is possessed by the veriest skeleton that has ever served the purposes of a college of surgeons, after having reposed for a whole generation in the silence of the grave. Oh! how we long for the day when we shall meet such miserable Judases face to face, and spit upon them before the nations; and how willing we are to admit that we should rather tomorrow shake the manly hand of the English Joe Sheard of Toronto, open enemy and all as he is, than touch the vile, clammy paw of such repulsive creatures as compose the snake-like breed of which this same paltry and sordid trimmer is a true representative. Of course, Greaves and he understood each other at once—they were both traitors alike; only that the former was lavish of money in attaining his nefarious ends, while the latter would crawl to whatever goal he had in view, through any description of filth provided it would obviate the necessity of relaxing his gripe upon his ill-gotten gain. It is to such men as he, that Ireland owes all her misfortunes, and that the people of Canada owe the curse of the great embarrassments that now sorely beset them. For so far, not a single Irishman who has ever been prominently identified with the Government of Canada, if we are at all able to judge, has possessed a spark of honest or true patriotism. From first to last, every man Jack of them has fleeced the poor Canucks unmercifully, and played the toady to England in the most fulsome and sickening manner. Even the best of them were rotten to the core, and but mere adventurers. Look at the case of the "Hyena," as he was called in his prime. One day we find him out at the elbows peddling samples of wine around the Province, and the next, wallowing in wealth through his Point Levi and other gouges at the expense of the people; until, at last, he became sufficiently corrupt for England to send him to take charge of her interests in one of her dependencies: where, as it is asserted, he, from time to time, is carried from boating parties, etc., to his palatial residence dead drunk, in open daylight. But why spend a single breath in referring to such miserable specimens of humanity? The world knows what they are; and Canada ought to have some slight acquaintance with them: as they built her into the worthless Grand Trunk at a ruinous figure, and, like her present, leading, political juggler, Sir John A., fleeced her in every direction that a collop could be cut out of her.

It was amongst such tricksters, English, Irish and Scotch, that Greaves, for the most part, moved secretly from the moment of his arrival in the Province up to the date at which we find him at Port Colborne. He was, however, surprised to learn that men so high in power, and that had been so high in power, really knew so little of the great impending movement which overshadowed the Provinces and bid fair to wrest them from the hands of England. But few papers in Upper Canada appeared to know anything of what was really going on in this relation, besides the Globe, of Toronto. Nearly all the others, like the leader of the government and his satellites, seemed to be at sea upon the subject. This fact Greaves took care to mention in the dispatches which he sent home to Ireland, from time to time; giving it as his opinion, that the Prime Minister of Canada was a dangerous man to entrust with any large interests, civil or military.

How the spy had become possessed of the letter or paper which so staggered O'Brien, is easily accounted for. One of the Organization in Ireland, named Greaves, who had been purchased by the government while on a mission of trust, and who had sworn his way into the Brotherhood with a view to making merchandise of it, gave up his credentials for a certain sum; and thus it was that they had fallen into the hands of the Castle of Dublin and subsequently into those of the spy. Cunning as O'Brien was, the spy read his connection with the Organization through exhibiting this document to him on the morning succeeding the night of our first introduction to The Harp; for he perceived, at once, that were O'Brien not, is some way, identified with the Brotherhood, he would have been unable to recognize the meaning of certain expressions contained in the paper, which, as already observed, seemed to impress him so suddenly and so forcibly.

Now, however, that the Provinces were actually invaded, Greaves, as we shall yet continue to call him, found that his mission had suddenly been brought to a close. As the cat was out of the bag, however, he instantly turned his undivided attention to some private matters of his own, and which, after all, was the only thing that induced him to move so rapidly west, after the escape of Barry and his comrades from the Fort. But with all his deeply laid schemes, he began to feel a strange presentiment that he had overreached himself, and that, notwithstanding the supposition that he had shut out our hero from Canada for all time to come, it was more than likely he was in the Province again, and that, too, as an invader, and but a very short distance from the village in which he now found himself. This surmise maddened him, for reasons to be disclosed in due course; and, as if urged by some unseen power, he was determined to make his way towards the camp of the invaders; well knowing that had Barry joined it, he would vouch for his friendliness; while, had he not re-entered the Province, he himself could make his way among the Brotherhood as a friend, by the same means that he had stepped into the good graces, or rather escaped the detection, of O'Brien.

Early on the morning of the second of June, then, he set out from Port Colborne, with a force under the command of Lieut. Col. Booker, anxious to witness, and if necessary, take part in the first encounter between the invaders and the Provincial troops. How did he know—perhaps a chance bullet fired by himself might find its billet in the heart of Barry, had the latter joined the Fenians; and if it did, then all would be right, and his triumph secured. Still he had his misgivings as to the success of the Canadians, notwithstanding their reputed superior numbers, and the presence of the regulars to strengthen and inspirit the volunteers. He saw that all was uncertainty and confusion. Col. Peacock, of the 16th regulars, chief in command of the united forces, was at "sixes and sevens" with the commanding officer of the volunteers, while General Napier, commanding the regular troops in the whole of Upper Canada, was so perplexed with rumors of invasion at various points, as to be absolutely lost in a maze of bewilderment, and utterly incapable of meeting the crisis in a soldierly and intelligent manner.

Thus the confusion ran amongst the Canadians, when Col. Booker, on the morning just alluded to, set out with his command from Port Colborne, to attack the Irish Republican forces, encamped at Newbiggin's Farm, and with the further intention of forming a junction with the regulars under Col. Peacock, coming from Chippewa—the invaders being absolutely hemmed in on all sides; as a steamer with a field battery occupied the river in their rear, with a view to cutting off their retreat, when they were, as it was expected they should be, defeated by the large number of forces that were being steadily brought down upon them.

Arriving at the village of Ridgeway, the troops left the cars and proceeded cautiously in the direction of Stevensville, at or near which point they hoped to form the junction with Col. Peacock, who was on his way from Chippewa, where he had bivouacked the night before. The village of Ridgeway is on the line of the Grand Trunk Railway, which connects it with Port Colborne on Lake Erie on the one side, and Fort Erie on the same lake, at the mouth of the Niagara River, on the other. It is situated about eleven miles from the former place, and something like eight from the latter; leaving the extreme points distant from each other about nineteen miles. At this little place, then, Lieut. Col. Booker found himself, in command of a force which has been variously estimated at from twelve to eighteen hundred men, composed of the crack volunteers of the country, and, as a general thing, commanded by brave and experienced officers. It has, however, been asserted by some that there were not more than one thousand British engaged at Ridgeway; but we fear that this is under the mark, and are inclined to believe, that, at an honest computation, their force amounted to between thirteen and fourteen hundred. This we give on what we consider to be reliable authority, and can, at once, presume that the division under Col. Booker stood something more than three to one against the invaders, as the handful under the gallant O'Neill did not exceed four hundred on the actual field of Ridgeway.

Stevensville lies in the direction of Chippewa, on a wagon road branching off at right angles from the Grand Trunk at Ridgeway village, and here it was that Col. Peacock ordered Col. Booker to meet him, with the men under his command, with the design of forming a junction and attacking O'Neill with a combined force of volunteers and regulars amounting to between two and three thousand men. This junction O'Neill was determined to defeat, and did defeat it;—but let us not anticipate.

When Greaves stepped from the cars at Ridgeway, the first man he encountered was the Kid; and, strange as it may appear, a sign of recognition passed between them instantaneously. In a few moments they managed to extricate themselves from the crowds that thronged the place, and move off to an unfrequented spot, where they could converse unheard and unobserved. Here they were soon engaged on a subject which seemed to excite Greaves to the highest pitch, and elicit from him sundry ejaculations of surprise mixed with anger. Becoming cooler, however, he led his companion into a spot even more sequestered, and then fell into a low and earnest conversation with him, in which the name of Barry might be heard pronounced with a deadly, hissing vehemence, indicative of the most frightful passion and hate. All this time the Kid remained quite calm, answering the interrogatories of his employer, for such Greaves appeared to be, until, at last, the plot or contract, whatever it was, was completed, and the parties had again bent their steps to the railway station by different paths.

Had the gallant O'Neill two thousand men at his command on the morning of the 2d of June, 1866, with the certainty of reinforcements, Canada would, ere this, have been part and parcel of the United States, and Ireland an independent Republic, modeled after that of the American Union. No officer was better calculated to accomplish the overthrow of British power in the Dominion, than he. A thorough and practiced soldier—a man of great personal courage and daring, and above all, a genuine Celt, fired with the hereditary hatred of England so characteristic of his name and race, he was in himself a host. With two thousand men, composed of such stuff as he commanded at Ridgeway, he could have swept the road before him to Toronto; for there can be no doubt that his numbers would have been largely augmented on the way by Irish Nationalists and American sympathisers, who then, as now, pine for annexation. In addition, when it became once known, that a victorious army of the Republic of Ireland was marching on Toronto, a demonstration favorable to the invaders would have been made in that city, or such indications of friendship evinced by the Irish portion of the inhabitants, as would paralyze the energies of all those within its borders who were determined to stand by the flag of the tyrant. This, we are certain, would have been the real result of a march upon that city; for, all that thousands upon thousands of the people of Canada, who are now muzzled by the government, require at any moment to range them on the side of Ireland, is the assurance of success on the part of any invader, whether Irish or American, who makes a descent upon their shores. What a dreadful calamity, then, it was, that the War Department of the Irish Republic had fallen into such careless or incompetent hands, and that some man was not at its head who could have managed to have thrown upon Canadian soil, at Fort Erie and one or two other points, a force to act separately or in conjunction with sufficient effect to completely paralyse all opposition in Western Canada, among an already excited and incongruous host, who could have been easily swept before a compact handful of troops fired by a spirit so lofty and a resolve so unconquerable as that which actuated the brave little band of patriots who have made the 2d day of June, 1866, famous in the annals of the Irish race on this continent and on the other side of the Atlantic.

Let it be thoroughly understood, that although the fortress of Quebec is considered the Gibraltar of this continent, it is in the midst of an Irish and French population absolutely hostile to British rule. The French, like the children of Ireland, never were and never can be loyal to England; and there are but few men in Lower Canada to-day, who would not rather see the American flag floating over Cape Diamond at the present moment, than the blood-stained standard which proclaims it in the grasp of a tyrant. From this we infer, that had Toronto, Kingston and Montreal fallen into the hands of the invaders, Quebec could not fail to soon follow; and then for the fitting out of Irish Republican privateers that would requite all the depredations of the Alabama ten-fold, and cripple the commerce of England, as she had destroyed that of the United States during the last war. General O'Neill had all this in his eye, and was ready to push the case to the mouth of the St. Lawrence, and there commence active operations against the merchant service of the common enemy of both Ireland and America; sweeping it from the high seas, and striking the tyrant in her Counting House, as one of her most vulnerable points. There could have been no difficulty in managing all this, had a sufficient force been thrown into the Province at the time already mentioned; nor can it be attended with much difficulty at any moment, provided the right men are placed at the head of the Fenian War Department. Canada is doomed, whomsoever her conqueror may be; so the sooner her people experience the change which is sure to overtake her, the sooner shall she be restored to internal peace, prosperity and security; from all of which she is now excluded, and must remain so, as long as she continues part and parcel of the British Empire.

As by this time, the invading army had been in the Province for a portion of two days and two nights, the country generally was pretty well excited; but particularly in and about the section where the invaders had taken up their position, as well as along the line of Col. Peacock's march. Still there did not appear any very marked disposition on the part of the actual settlers in these quarters to take a decided part in stemming the invasion. It appears to us, that it was simply the government that moved through agencies, in this connection, which could not well disregard or resist their commands, rather than any antagonistic, out-spoken sentiment of the people, that had developed itself into active hostility against the Fenian forces. Be this as it may, the numbers hastily brought against the invaders were large in comparison with their own rank and file; and had they been actuated by a spirit similar to that which made a host of each individual Fenian, the fortunes of the day could not have failed to have been otherwise than they subsequently turned out to be. Again, let it be understood, that the majority of the little band who withstood the tempest shock at Ridgeway, were fresh from the fields of the South and used to the song of the bullet and the roar of artillery, as the great bulk of the army of the Irish Republic in America is to-day; while even the British regulars who were marching on Ridgeway were, with all their pretensions, but feather-bed soldiers who were totally out of practice of the real field, and had for many a day exhibited their pluck and discipline at general reviews or sham battles only. This we hold to weigh heavily on the side of the Irish National forces, and to decide in their favor, in advance, in any fight with treble their number of such an enemy—that is, we are of the fixed impression, that any hundred picked men from the force now under the gallant O'Neill, will beat, in open fight, any three hundred of the British army brought against them, all things being equal, with the exception of numbers. And why?—simply because in one case the belligerents would be fighting for the traditions and independence of the land of their love, while in the other they would, as a general, thing, be fighting for about six-pence a day.

As soon as Colonel Booker and his command took the road towards Stevensville, Greaves, who was as daring as a man could be, and who was besides well acquainted with military tactics, procured a rifle, a soldiers jacket, cap and accoutrements, and started forth in the wake of the volunteers, with the rear guard of which he soon came up. The accoutrements he wore belonged to one of the volunteers who, like many of the men under Colonel Peacock, took suddenly ill as they approached the Fenian lines, and fell out of the ranks. Fortunately for the spy, he found in this guard the very comrade of the man who was left behind at the village, and having received permission from the officer in charge, fell into the ranks with him and held on his way, as though he were an ordinary member of the force.

On the other hand, the Kid, on parting with Greaves, took his way in the direction in which he knew the invaders were slowly and cautiously moving, in order to get between Booker and Peacock, and defeat one command before it could form a juncture with the other. On approaching their lines, the steady tramp of which he could hear, he fell rapidly in the rear, where, true to their instincts, he found Black Jack and Wilson following in the team of the latter at a respectable distance, and anxiously waiting for the first volley that should give intimation that an engagement had commenced.

"By ——," exclaimed Wilson, as his acquaintance jumped into the wagon, "this is coming to rather close quarters."

"If so be," replied Jack, "as there vos henny har tillery in the vay, it might urt the missuses jam pots, seein as 'ow we can't be much hover a mile from them, from this 'ere place."

"Scarcely that," returned the Kid, "and what's more, from the course the Fenians are taking, they must soon be into it against three or four times their number, and serve them right; but what luck have you had during the night?" he continued, turning to Jack, "although I suspect there was not much chance in the direction in which you spent it."

"Call this a hinvasion?" retorted Jack, "vy these coves 'av only a come hover to show their good breedin and spend their money amongst the Canadians, instead of doin the decent thing like as ow it vos done in Hindia and the Peninsoola, veh the real harmy cut, burned and plundered hall afore 'em, 'and carried hoff, from old and young, bags of the most precious svag. This is disgustin. Honly fancy the fellows a behavin as if they vos on knight herranty of the hancient times, instead of givin a cove a chance of to do a little business among the walluables of Fort Erie, or hany hother place in the wicinity. I tell 'ee what, Kid, I'm sorry as vee hever comed hover—that I be; and I vish I vos veil back again behind my hown counter."

"Don't be down-hearted," replied the Kid, "for there will be fun somewhere soon, when these invaders will have to fall back on Fort Erie, where there may be a muss, or else the Canadians will have to retreat towards the village I have but recently left, so that in either case there may yet be a chance to throw something into the bottom of the wagon, and then in our turn fall back on friend Wilson's, here."

In this way the conversation was continued, while the horses moved slowly along the road taken by the invaders, and at such a distance from the rear of the force, as not to be visible to any of the soldiers; until, just as the three companions we're passing through a patch of woods about a quarter of a mile from the rear guard of the invaders, they were suddenly startled by the report of firearms in the direction of the troops, just ahead of them. This report was followed by another, and yet another, and now by one continuous volley. The famous battle of Ridgeway had commenced!



CHAPTER XIV.

Kate McCarthy, after having heard the disclosure of Martha, regarding the character of her uncle, and the dangerous and nefarious practices in which he and Smith, or the Kid, were engaged, arrived, by degrees, at the conclusion, that she was the victim of some horrible and mysterious plot, in which Nicholas, too, was involved unconsciously. This idea having taken full possession of her, she immediately communicated it to her friend, who also seemed to share her apprehension. Of course, she had no means of accounting for the existence of the talisman upon which, at the time she received it, she could have staked her life; but, now, it was too plain, that even about this there was something strange and unsatisfactory; because, from her frequent inspection of it, although it had evidently come from the hand of Nicholas, it appeared to have not been so clearly intended for her, as she could have desired. Yet for whom else could it have been designed? This was the question; and it necessarily remained unanswered, while the conviction still obtained, that, notwithstanding there was enough in the mysterious token to justify the course she had taken, she was nevertheless in most dangerous toils, with the existence of which her lover was totally unacquainted.

This once settled in her mind, her first impulse was to flee the house immediately; but, on second consideration, she felt it were better to await results, as she was certain that Martha was her true friend, and believed that no actual violence would be offered to her while under Wilson's roof. Were she to effect her escape she had neither acquaintance nor guide to direct her steps, and was totally uninformed as to the character and people of the locality in which she found herself. Again, Wilson had no doubt, placed eyes upon her that would arrest her footsteps, or so embarrass her that she should again fall into the hands from which she sought to escape. The region around her, as she now learned, was addicted to smuggling, and so marked was this truth, that a house of entertainment in the neighborhood was called the Smuggler's Home; where, it was said, bold and reckless men were to be found constantly. There was one thing, however, she was determined upon, and that was to procure, if possible, some weapon of defence in case any attempt were made to further jeopardize her person or liberty; and in this she was promptly aided by her young friend.

She had now been nearly a week from home, and yet not an additional word or line had arrived from her lover. It was fortunate, however, that in her present perilous condition she had one in whom she could confide, and whom she knew sympathised with her. This was a solace to her, as it enabled her from time to time, to ease her burdened heart of the heavy load that pressed upon it, and converse upon the probable designs of those into whose toils she hod been betrayed. Smith, she was well aware, knew all the circumstances of her case; but he was in the employment of her persecutor or persecutors, and nothing, she was certain, was to be gleaned from him. However, as he had some design on the hand of Martha, the thought struck her that if opportunity served, her young friend might be able to extract from him even a hint as to the real state of her case; and this idea she at once communicated to her. Martha, on her part, expressed herself willing to befriend her to the utmost of her power; but still evinced a repugnance to be under any obligation to Smith, or enter into relations with him that could aim at anything like confidence between them. Yet she confessed herself ready to sacrifice her feelings as far as she could properly do so, for the purpose of fathoming the plot that surrounded her companion; but, then, where was Smith to begin with; and when was it probable that he should again make his appearance in that locality? These were points more easily entertained than disposed of; and thus matters stood when circumstances threw in their way the very individual they both desired to see.

When the Kid, Jack and Wilson were liberated on the evening of the day on which they had been captured with others, and sent into the headquarters of Gen. O'Neill, it was decided that the first named of these worthies should proceed at once to Wilson's, and apprise the family of the presence of a hostile army, and the necessity of keeping close and barricading the house in case the tide of war should roll in that direction. The habitation, as already mentioned, stood in an isolated spot surrounded with woods, and the proprietor was of the impression, that it would escape notice or molestation; from the fact that the Fenians seemed to eschew everything that savored, in even the slightest degree, of the destruction of private property or of gratuitous pillage. Besides, he perceived that for the purpose of meeting some of the necessities of the invaders, a few horses had been already impressed into their service, and felt, consequently, that were his discovered on the road leading to his home, they could not fail to share the same fate. He therefore, as just intimated, begged the Kid to make the best of his way to Limestone Ridge, beside which his domicile stood. To this request the Kid willingly acceded, as it would afford him another opportunity of seeing Martha; so, when evening was about to set in, he commenced his journey.

Earlier in the day, the brave Captain O'Donohue, of the 18th, white out on a foraging party towards Chippewa, came up with some outposts of the enemy, who, noticing his dauntless bearing, and the steady, onward tramp of his handful of men, fled at his approach without firing a single shot.

When passing out of the camp to the main road, the Kid learned that the whole force was to move off at about ten o'clock in the direction of Chippewa; it being the intention of the commander, as previously observed, to get between the body of regulars about proceeding from that point, and that of the volunteers, to move forward, and form a junction with them, from Port Colborne; intending to attack and defeat the one before the other came up. At this time O'Neill's troops did not, as is confidently asserted, number as many as five hundred men; while the force of the enemy surrounding him on every side, was estimated at an aggregate of some thousands. This he well knew, but he had invaded the territories of the ancient and implacable antagonist of his country and his name, and he was determined to make another Thermopylae of any pass in which he happened to meet the foe, no matter how overwhelming their numbers.

This intelligence impressed the Kid with the idea that a battle might possibly take place somewhere in the vicinity of Stevensville or Ridgeway; as he knew that the leader of the Irish Republican Army, or forlorn hope, as so small a body of men might be termed, would attempt to intercept a junction of the enemy somewhere near one or the other of these points, as both lay on the line between Chippewa and Port Colborne, taking the Sodom Road and the Grand Trunk Railway as the surest and speediest route between both these latter places. So pushing forward, with speed that never slackened, just at the period that O'Neill was about to break camp, under the pretence of attacking Chippewa, Mr. Stephen Smith arrived at Wilson's door, and after a polite double knock was admitted by the mistress of that suspicious dwelling.

Martha was soon apprised of his arrival, and while her companion trembled throughout every limb with anxiety for the fate of the important enquiries which she had kindly consented to make, she hastily left the apartment where both had been long seated, conversing upon their future and the chances of escape from such a den. On perceiving the Kid, although her very soul revolted against the touch of his cold, clammy hand, she seemed to welcome him with more than ordinary cordiality. She was, of course, both surprised and alarmed at the intelligence of the invasion, and the proximity of the two armies; for, as yet, not a whisper of it had reached her, so secluded the place. He spoke of the necessity of putting the house in a state of defence, so as to be ready to meet any contingency; although, as he himself averred, he did not apprehend the slightest danger so long as the inmates remained within their doors, in case the din of battle was heard in the vicinity. As it was, however, the windows were well secured, and the heavy, oaken front-door was capable of being rendered all but invulnerable by a huge iron bar that could be speedily thrown across it into two deep grooves in the posts.

All this having been seen to, some trifling inquiry was made as to their lodger, when Mrs. Wilson, understanding previously the intention of Martha, and sympathizing with the case of poor Kate, left the apartment, as if on some ordinary household affair. Martha now set about gaining the information she sought; but with all her art, could only ascertain from her suitor, that Kate was in the power of an individual who, for some reason unknown to him, had betrayed her into Canada, and consigned her, for a time at least, to the place where she was now domiciled.

"And were you a party to the abduction of this innocent creature?" exclaimed Martha, the blood mounting to her cheeks in real anger and disgust.

"Oh! it was all in the way of business," replied the other, "and perceiving that it would result in the most pleasant companionship for one I so admire, I had the less scruples in furthering the design of a good employer."

Let it be understood that this villain had not even the most remote idea of the pure nature and true character of Martha. Having seen her but a few times, he subjected her moral worth to the standard of that of her uncle, and thought, consequently, that the disclosure he now made would enhance him in her estimation. In this he was mistaken; for, no sooner had he made her thoroughly cognizant of the fact that he was not an innocent, but a willing, instrument in the abduction of poor Kate, than she sprang to her feet, and with a glance the most withering, and full of unconquerable hate and aversion, without a single other word, left the apartment and ascended to that of her friend.

No sooner had she disappeared than an expression the most demoniacal stole over the countenance of Smith. The very devil sat on his brow, while his eyes turned absolutely green in their sockets. His thin, pale lips glistened again, as he drew them across his sharp, white teeth, in an attempt to smile. Looking stealthily about him, while a curious expression, still more horrible, replaced the one already described, he hastily drew a long knife from a sheath concealed beneath his vest, and regarded it for a moment in the light of the lamp before him. He knew that every hope of obtaining the hand of Martha was lost, and forever; and now for a terrible revenge.

"They are helpless and alone," he muttered, slowly rising to his feet. "There is wealth, too, somewhere here; and should I silence them all, it will be mine, and their death will be laid at the door of the invaders. Besides," he growled, "no suspicion can rest upon me, as I am the known friend of Wilson and the family. Nobody saw me come—no person shall see me leave. I shall fire the house after having rifled it; and conceal whatever I may obtain, in some convenient spot until the affair has blown over. Jack and Wilson know too much of me: I am tired of them. If needs be, I shall silence them also. I have rare work before me. Barry must die; but what shall I profit by killing him if I kill this woman also? Who cares! The devil is working with me; and now for it! To the foot of the stairs, then; where, as they descend, they shall fall one by one without a groan until the rare bird of a prisoner is left alone in her room. Then for some wild sport and the final blow!"

Having muttered all this to himself, the demon in human shape, extinguishing the lamp, sprang forward in the direction of the stairs, to await the first who happened to descend: but scarcely had he assumed his post of death, before the large oaken door was thrust rudely open and two strapping young fellows, armed with a revolver and a dirk each, rushed into the apartment, and alarmed all the party up stairs by calling aloud for a light, the gleam from the hearth being feeble and uncertain.

Instantly the knife of Smith was returned to its sheath, while he stepped forward, saying that he had just accidently extinguished the lamp in the absence of Mrs. Wilson and Martha, who had run up stairs to acquaint a lady friend with the intelligence that he had but that moment brought her from Mr. Wilson, regarding the invasion of the Province and the proximity, as he had no doubt, of the Fenian and Canadian forces.

"That is just the mission we have come on ourselves," returned one of the new comers, "as we were apprised that Mr. Wilson was from home, and thought that his family would like to know of the dangers that possibly surrounded them."

The manly voice of the speaker soon brought Martha and her aunt down stairs; and the lamp being speedily relighted, the former advanced towards the speaker and taking his extended hand, with a bright eye and a flushed cheek, heard all he had to say on the subject which occasioned his unceremonious visit.

"One of us will stay with you," he continued, while she thanked him for his goodness, "until Mr. Wilson arrives; and although he is not over social in his habits, I am sure he will not misconstrue the anxiety we feel for the safety of his family."

"Thank you! thank you, Mr. Evans," returned Martha; "we shall feel so grateful for your protection; and as to my uncle, I am satisfied he cannot be otherwise than obliged to you for this great kindness."

"You stay then, Harry," observed the other stranger, "for I shall move on to Ridgeway, as I want to hear what's afloat there. There are troops, I know, at Port Colborne, and they ought to be apprised of the whereabouts of the enemy, and so should the inhabitants of this neighborhood. Mr. Graham, the Collector of Fort Erie, has, I am informed, proceeded with information of the enemy to Port Colborne; but still there is not yet anything known of their precise location, so contradictory are the rumors, not only as to where they are encamped, but in relation to their numbers."

"I can satisfy you as to both these circumstances," broke in the Kid, with a voice as bland as if murder had not visited his heart for an age, "for I heard this evening that they were encamped about four hundred strong at Newbiggin's farm, four or five miles down the river from Fort Erie; and that they intended to move on towards Chippewa about ten o'clock; branching off in the direction of Ridgeway, in the hope of meeting the troops coming from Port Colborne, and defeating them before they formed a junction with those expected from Chippewa."

"As my cousin Harry will sit up with the family for the remainder of the night, then, perhaps you would not mind walking as far as Ridgeway," replied the young fellow who had last spoken, "as we are sure to have news there; from the fact of the village being on the line of the Grand Trunk."

Seeing that his murderous plot was for the time defeated, the Kid made no objection to this request; feeling that the darkness and the night, as well as any whirl of excitement or debauch, were more in accordance with the infernal tone of his spirit, than the conversation of two beings, Martha and Evans, whom his keen eye at once discovered to be lovers. So bidding the family good night, and not waiting to partake of the refreshments offered him after his journey from the Fenian camp, he sallied forth with his new acquaintance on the road leading to the village.

"Henry," said Martha, when the sound of their receding footsteps had died in the distance, "do you know anything of the man Smith who has just left us, for you seemed to eye him very intently from the moment the lamp was relighted until the door closed behind him this moment? We know now, and have often suspected, him to be a villain; but circumstances over which we had no control—that is, my aunt and myself—have thrown us occasionally into the society of the wretch, whom we both loathe and detest."

This interrogatory was put in the absence of Mrs. Wilson, who had again sought the apartment of Kate to tell her all that had just transpired. It seemed to embarrass the young man for a moment; but recovering himself, he frankly replied—

"I have seen that man frequently in Buffalo. Not long since, he was pointed out to me as a most dangerous character who was under the surveillance of the police; and, as you may be well assured, I was astounded to find him here and at such an hour."

"Oh!" returned Martha, "he has been here often, Henry, and what I now fear is, that my uncle is leagued with him, not only in the most frightfully dishonest practices, but in the abduction, at the instance of some other villain, of a good and pure young creature who, a few nights ago, was brought here by them under the pretense that it was the wish of her lover that she should accompany them where this wretch would—a pretense that disguised itself under a veritable token procured in some way from her betrothed, and evidently used without his sanction or knowledge."

"I believe your uncle to be a bad man, Martha," returned Evans, "but the fault is not yours; and besides, there is not a single drop of his blood in your veins. I am convinced, also, that your aunt knows it, and that it is that which so wastes her away and destroys the whole sunshine of her life. I have long felt it; and were it not for the dread of paining you through exposure, I should ere this have directed the attention of the authorities to some circumstances affecting his character and honesty, that came under my own notice; for, Martha, dear, but a few hours since, as I may say, I was an accidental witness of an incident which more than confirms all the suspicions that have so long rested on him."

"I know! I know?" interrupted Martha, while she hid her face in her hands and wept in bitter agony, "but go on!"

"When," resumed Evans, "two or three nights ago, believing Wilson to be from home—for I shall no longer call him your uncle, he being, in truth, no relation whatever of yours,—I stole up from our place to say a few words to you and urge you to quit this house and become my wife. I was astonished to see a light in the stable as I crept by it; and looking into one of the windows. I perceived this man leaning over a large case filled with valuables that had evidently been stolen by him, or by some of his accomplices, who had entrusted them to his safe keeping until the noise of the robbery had blown over. I saw this, I saw with my own eyes; and now that you are aware of it, can you longer remain beneath this roof?"

"It is true! alas! too true," sobbed Martha, "for I myself saw the very same case; and then it was, that for the first time, a full sense of his horrible vocation fell upon me and the poor woman that he calls his wife. Of course, Henry, I shall quit this place, and forever; but until this horrible din is over, and the poor creature up stairs placed in some safe hands, I shall bear my terrible lot as best I can."

"Rightly spoken, dear Martha," returned Henry, kissing off her tears, "and I trust that this lady of whom you speak, will prove herself worthy your kindness and esteem."

"No fear of that, dear Henry," returned the maiden, "my heart tells me that she is as good as she is beautiful, and I know, not only from her own lips, but from what has transpired this very night, that she is the victim of some foul plot yet to be punished and explained."

"And where has she come from, and what is her name?" rejoined Henry, evidently becoming interested in the fate of our heroine.

"Her home is in Buffalo," replied Martha, "and her name is Kate M'Carthy."

"By heaven!" exclaimed Evans, leaping to his feet as if the house were falling, "where is she? where is she? Lead me to her at once!"



CHAPTER XV.

Had General O'Neill not entertained strong hopes he should be re-inforced, knowing, as he did, that a large body of Fenian troops were scattered along the American frontier, under the command of brave and true men, he would have broken camp with a sad heart on the night of the first. No man in existence was more thoroughly aware than he, that, 'though brave as lions, the force at his command was altogether too small to effect anything permanent upon the soil of the enemy. The most he hoped to achieve, was a footing, until his command had acquired sufficient strength to enable him to move upon some of the important towns of the Upper Province. Of the dangers and perils that surrounded him he was fully aware; but he knew, also, that, now that he had crossed the Rubicon, how fatal it would be to the prestige of the cause of Ireland, to retreat again to the American shore without measuring swords with the foe, no matter what their numbers, and, if needs be, illustrating, with a handful of men, the spirit resolve and bravery which, long previously, fostered by the noble Roberts and Gibbons, etc., fired the whole Organization on this great continent, and placed the ultimate independence of Ireland beyond any possible contingency. O'Neill was just the man to make this impression, and to seize upon every circumstance calculated to aid him in the attempt. Fresh from the fields of the South, where his sword and name were a watchword and a tower of strength when danger was to be met in the gap, he was used to war in all its phases; while the fierce leaven of his patriotism and the mighty promptings of his ancient name, now that he had made a descent upon the enemy of his country and his race, rendered him almost invincible. Though small his band, he knew that each man who had accompanied him thus far was a host in himself, and ennobled by a spirit identical with that which prompted him in the main. And now the hour had arrived when he should show the enemy and the world that numbers were as nothing in the sight of the God of battles. Besides, he felt it, as a mere matter of generalship, incumbent upon him to maintain, if possible, a foothold or rallying point for whatever reinforcements might follow him, as well as keep open the line of communication with the shores he had but just left. In short, critically as he was placed, and regarding his little host as the vanguard of freedom, he determined to sacrifice himself and them to a man, if necessary, in maintaining his ground until thoroughly satisfied of the truth of his fears that President Roberts, deceived, like the Organization generally, in the capacity of the Secretary of War, was no longer able to send reinforcements or further a movement calculated to sweep the Province from Sandwich to Quebec. In this way matters stood with him on the night that he left his camp at Newbiggin's Farm. He was aware that two large bodies of the enemy's troops were marching upon him from two opposite points, and that to permit them to form a junction would be to court utter annihilation. As before observed, then, he set out at the hour already named, with a view to getting between them and defeating the one before the other came up. In his sublime enthusiasm he invested each individual of his command with the purposes and attributes of a hero, and felt that a body so constituted, so compact and so easily handled, could be slung with fearful effect against almost any number of men who had no heart in the fight, save that which was engendered by an uneasy and uncomfortable sentiment of badly founded loyalty to the flag of a tyrant, or that degrading spirit of hireling hostility, which changed its force and direction, in accordance with the amount of gold offered by the subsidizing party.

Moved by impulses so noble and disinterested, the whole camp now marched away in the direction of Chippewa, burning the bridges behind them, to a point some five or six miles distant, where the reconnoitering party, under the command of Col. Hoy, had been ordered to wait until the main body of the troops came up, and to the left of which Gen. O'Neill hoped to intercept some one of the two hostile forces that were, as he was perfectly convinced, moving against him from opposite points of the compass.

In the rear of the moving camp followed Black Jack and Wilson, at a very respectful distance; they being comfortably seated in the wagon of the latter, that had been brought cautiously from its hiding place, when the steady tramp of the rear guard of the army had died away.

"What a pity it is," said Wilson, as the team crawled slowly along, "that we have no chance to take the number of a few of those self-same invaders from behind a tree or log; for I find the English blood beginning to stir within me."

"Vot's to be gained by it," returned Black Jack, "seein as 'ow there's no use in cuttin a vizzen or scuttlin a nob, unless there's some svag at the end on it? For my own part," he continued, "I'd rather that ve should try our luck among some of the farmers or gentry about here; although I'm certain they're purty vide avake seem as vot's afoot just now."

"Yes! yes!" returned the other, "that's all well enough in its way; but as we can't hope to accomplish much until there's a fight between the invaders and the invaded, I should like, if an opportunity turned up, to thin out a few of those green jackets while we hid the horses hard by and waited the result of the conflict."

"Vell! vell!" replied Jack, "there vouldn't be much 'arm in tryin our 'and in that vay, as ven ve got a chance ve might step into the ranks of the Hinglish and give them a lift; ven, if needs be, ve could slip out again and take our luck in the trail of the fight, pickin hup votever might drop in the vay."

About midnight the troops came up with Col. Hoy's party, and after marching a considerable distance and then taking a couple of hours rest, the whole force made a cautious detour towards the direct line leading from Ridgeway to Chippewa; O'Neill being satisfied that he had already intercepted the junction of the British, and should be able to engage and defeat either one party or the other before they could both unite.

In this way the night was passed; every precaution being taken to guard against ambush or surprise, until morning became well advanced, and the invaders, after having emerged from a swamp through which they had marched, found themselves within three or four miles of Ridgeway.

It was at this point and period that the Kid, after leaving Greaves, had come up with, or rather encountered, the wagon with Black Jack and Wilson, who, as usual, kept moving slowly in the rear of the troops and sniffing, like blood-hounds or vultures, their prey in the distance.

As observed in a previous chapter, the two worthies had scarcely welcomed their companion or seen him comfortably seated beside them, before they were all aroused by the report of fire-arms, apparently ahead of the main body of the troops, which, as near as they could calculate, was about half a mile in advance. It was at this moment that the brave Col. Starr, who commanded the advance, got the first glimpse of the outposts of the enemy, which he at once charged and drove in like so many sheep; and this was the music heard by Wilson and his companions. Shortly afterwards, the main body of the enemy, commanded by Lieut. Col. Booker, from Port Colborne, were discovered, and the battle was opened by a speedy and judicious disposition of the Fenian forces, and the hasty throwing up of a rail barricade from behind which some of the Boys in Green commenced their work of destruction; while others of them kept the British skirmishers in hand in the woods hard by, and in a manner the most cool and artistic.

Any person who gets a view of Major Dennison's map, in the work already mentioned, representing the disposition of the two antagonistic forces at Ridgeway, will at once be struck with the overwhelming numbers of that under the command of Col. Booker, compared with the compactness and fewness of the troops commanded by General O'Neill. In this chart we have the whole field studded, on the British side, with Highlanders, York Rifles, Trinity College Companies, University Rifles, the Queen's Own and the 13th Field Battery, etc.; while on the side of the Army of the Irish Republic, as the diagram shows, we have but a handful of men, without artillery, and with but very few mounted officers. The circumstances under which the forces met, were favorable to Col. Booker, also; for not only had the British the advantage of a great superiority in numbers, stores and equipments, but they were engaged at their own doors, in the midst of a passive or friendly element, and with unlimited supplies and resources at their command; while, on the contrary, the men under General O'Neill were but poorly equipped, without supplies or proper ammunition—their bullets having, in some instances, to be pared on the field with a knife before they fitted the bore of their rifles—and were in the midst of an enemy's country, surrounded on all sides by hostile battalions, and with but a slight hope of being reinforced before the enemy came down in overwhelming numbers upon them. This was a critical position, and well calculated to dismay any man less bold and courageous than O'Neill; but frightful as it was, he saw the necessity of accepting the situation. He remembered having, on the battle fields of the South, with but twenty men, defeated two hundred of a force under Hamilton, and run them in helpless disorder for a distance of thirteen miles; killing five of them with his own hand. He remembered, in addition, having, with a command of but fifty, charged, on the same fields, in defence of the American Union, two different regiments of the enemy, routed them, and recaptured the officers and guns of the Republic that had been previously taken by them; and remembering all this, his heart rose within him, and he felt that with his little band of Spartans, few as they were in number, he could work a double miracle when he met the tyrant of his name, his country and his race face to face. And so he did not stoop to measure the forces that were surrounding him; well knowing that, if all came to all, and that, if it were necessary for him to fall back upon the American shore, he could cut his way through them; as he was inclined to regard their numbers as but simple encumbrances to themselves; feeling, as he did, that they could be neither disciplined nor actuated by any proud impulses such as fired his own troops and his own bosom.

Buoyed with this spirit, and moved by the conviction that the eyes of the world were upon him, the first glimpse of the enemy was as one of sunshine to him; and as he looked around him and saw his brave officers and men towering and immoveable as cliffs in the presence of the angry deep, the strange fire so noticeable sometimes in his eye, blazed forth as though his soul went out in flame through each glaring orb; and the work of death had begun.

The battle of Ridgeway was commenced by skirmishers who were posted on both sides, among the woods and orchards with which that locality abounds; and although for some short period but little life was lost on the part of either the British or the Fenians, the daring of the latter had evidently confused and, in a degree, paralyzed the former from the first. In the woods, they gave the Highlanders a dreadful overhauling, and when pressed by numbers they steadily fell back upon the main body, with advantage to themselves and with loss to their opponents. When once aware of their position, and the great odds against them, in the incredible space of ten minutes, they threw up a breastwork of rails, from behind which they now began to deal the most deadly havoc amongst the enemy. The men engaged in more exposed positions, performed absolute miracles of valor, and charged the foe in the face of the most galling fire, until they actually touched their bayonets, and then poured in the murderous volley that shattered their ranks and strewed the field with their wounded and dying. As we learn from Major Denison, of the British forces, the Fenian officers were ever in front of their men, cheering them on to death or victory, and evincing such instances of true bravery as commanded the admiration of even those against whom they fought. Individual acts of the most terrible daring were performed by them, and so generally did the whole of O'Neil's staff, including his gallant Aid-de-Camp, Lieut. Rudolph Fitzpatrick, as well as all the officers of the various companies, participate in the dreadful struggle, that even to this hour no writer has attempted to give any one of them pre-eminence over the other. And so of the rank and file, also. Scarce a single man of them, at one period, but was spattered with the blood of the enemy; and never did a solitary knot of them give way, for an instant, before any force that they were ordered to withstand. Wherever they moved the dead and wounded tumbled before them, until, fatigued by the frightful heat of the weather, they were, from time to time, constrained to pause in their dreadful work.

The engagement had continued for about an hour, when the brave Lieut. Lonergan bit the dust, while a cheer for Ireland struggled through the death rattle in his throat. He fell, a true hero and patriot, and well was his death avenged; for no sooner had its intelligence spread through his company, than its members became absolute tigers, and literally glutted themselves with blood. Then it was, that the Sun-burst carried through that hot field, from beginning to end, by Sergeant John Smith, of the 7th I.R.A., company G, might be seen flying where the enemy was thickest, surrounded by a struggling band, each of which was a host himself. Then it was, that the wild cry of "Erin go bragh!" smote on the ear of the foe like a death knell, paralyzed all their energies, and froze the warm current in their heart. At that moment a dozen men in green were worth a regiment of the material he fought against; and thus it was, that the enemy determined to mass all their forces against the gallant O'Neill, who stood like a rock amid the dreadful conflict, giving his orders with as much coolness as if he were dictating a letter; and, while the bullets whistled about him like hail, applauding the noble deeds of his men and officers, the next moment to be whirled into the dreadful melee himself.

With the keen, quick eye of a soldier, O'Neill perceived the intention of his adversary, who had, now, as he saw clearly, made up his mind to mass all his force against the Fenian troops and flank them. At this point the Boys in Green were ordered to fall steadily back and take up a new position, some distance in the rear of their rail barricade. The movement was performed in the most masterly manner; while the enemy continued to extend his wings—both right and left. On perceiving it, however, he construed it, as it was intended he should, into a retreat, and paused for a moment to consider what was best to be done. While deliberating, however, O'Neill, who had in vain been for some time endeavoring to draw out his centre, perceiving that the moment had arrived, sounded the charge, and, the next instant, the whole compact body of the invaders, with himself and his officers at their head, were thundering down, with the sweep of the Cyclone, upon the weak and startled centre of the foe, crashing through it like a cavalcade of thunder bolts, and scattering the whole of the English forces like chaff before the wind!

In the twinkling of an eye the enemy was flying in every direction before the victorious army of the Irish Republic! In their ignoble flight they divested themselves of all the clothing they could decently spare, and of everything that could tend to impede their progress! The field was strown with their great coats, knapsacks, rifles, and musical instruments belonging to their bands. Their dead and dying were left unheeded, and in every direction lay the unmistakable evidences of their sudden disaster and hopeless defeat. The compactness and dreadful resolve of the force slung against them by O'Neill, and the masterly way in which the bolt was hurled, at once bid defiance to all their pre-conceived ideas of fighting, or of the wonders that could be attained by a handful of brave men, commanded by a dauntless and experienced soldier; so, that their rumored attempt at rallying is supposed to have originated in a desire on the part of their historian, to lessen the disgrace of their defeat in the eyes of the people of Canada; for it is well known, that so hot and heavy was the pursuit, that they not only had no time to rally, but so intent was each one of them on effecting his own personal safety, that all discipline was at an end; until the Fenians, on perceiving that they were not yet reinforced, felt it advisable, notwithstanding their success, to fall back on Fort Erie, for the purpose of keeping their line of communication open with the American shore.

And yet until this disaster had overtaken them, the British troops fought well, considering the incentives they had to stake their lives on the field of battle. Nor were the Queen's Own, who suffered so severely in this tremendous charge, and who fled so panic-stricken before it, a whit behind, in courage, some of the companies who appear to have escaped with less censure from the Canadian public, in relation to the loss of this important field. The Queen's Own, as we are creditably informed, came up well to the mark on more than one occasion; and only gave way before such a charge as that which carried the day at Fontenoy, and which was, at the period, absolutely irresistible.

Barry and his comrades of the Canadian Fort fought throughout the whole morning with the most heroic courage. In several hand to hand encounters he performed prodigies of valor, and once thought he perceived the Kid and Black Jack, together with Wilson whom he saw in their company at Newbiggin's farm, fighting on the English side. In this he was not mistaken; for these three worthies, on discovering the superior force of the British, at once concealed their horses and wagon in a sheltered hollow hard by the field, and making a detour through the woods on the verge of which they were passing, joined in the engagement, against the men who had treated them so well but a few hours previously. This they accomplished immediately after Col. Starr had driven in the outposts of the enemy, and when they had ascertained that the English forces outnumbered the invaders to an extent which, as they supposed, rendered the success of the latter totally out of the question.

While on one occasion, Nicholas was engaged with a Highlander whom he was pressing hard, a ball grazed his shoulder, evidently fired stealthily from behind a neighboring tree. A glance in the direction revealed the form of the Kid retreating from the spot and seeking shelter behind another, around which were gathered a few of the enemy who were paying some attention to a wounded officer. This struck him as strange; but as he had other work in hand, he permitted his cowardly assailant to escape for the moment. Later in the day, however, he caught yet another sight of him, and was satisfied that he had made a second deadly attempt upon his life. In this way the matter stood touching this peculiar case, until the total rout of the forces and their retreat towards Ridgeway village; when Barry, left with a few men to look after the dead and wounded while the main body pursued the fugitives, had yet another opportunity of testing the kindly intentions of Smith; for while he and four or five others were collecting the dead into one particular spot beneath a huge elm, in the vicinity of a house near which the greatest carnage had taken place, another ball whizzed by his ear; and the next moment the door of the building opened and out rushed half a dozen men, armed to the teeth, and laying one of his party dead at his feet with the only bullet that had taken effect out of a volley that had been fired as they rushed forward to overwhelm him in a hand to hand struggle.

The assailants were now six to five, but Barry soon made the numbers more equal, and the fight becoming desperate, two of his antagonists closed with him, who appeared to be men of tremendous activity and great personal courage. What seemed strangest, however, in the whole of this sudden attack, was, all the party that rushed from the house were masked, although he was satisfied that one of them, at least, was the Kid. The contest had continued for about eight or ten minutes when one of his assailants was stretched at his feet by an unseen hand; the other taking immediate flight. He looked around,—a stranger stood by his side. He was a handsome young man dressed in the plain garb of a farmer. Anxious to learn how the rest of his comrades fared, while thanking his new ally for his timely assistance, he glanced in the direction in which they fought; all save one was wounded but their antagonists lay beside them dead or dying. Begging the stranger to render him some assistance in staunching the blood of those who still survived, and removing them to a shed belonging to the house hard by, he discovered that his fallen adversary, who lay quite senseless from the blow he had received, now seemed to be bleeding profusely from some wound inflicted by himself; although until that moment he had not noticed it. His enemy had fought with a long, keen dagger after he had discharged his rifle and thrown it away, while the fugitive used one of the ordinary rifle-bayonets in his attack. The superb swordsmanship of their intended victim, however, was more than a match for them, and would, in all probability have triumphed of itself had not the contest been broken in upon in the manner already described.

In the course of a very few moments, the sufferers were removed from out the broiling sun to the shed just mentioned, where they were cared for as well as circumstances would permit—the stranger passing to and from the adjoining house with the necessary bandages, water, etc.

While removing the masks of two of the assailing party, who appeared to be mortally wounded, for the purpose of giving them the draft of water they had so earnestly though feebly implored, as Barry suspected, one of them was the Kid. The other was Wilson, whose last midnight journey had evidently been performed, as he was sinking fast, and that, too, without having gratified his love of plunder in a single instance connected with the invasion from which he and his two companions had anticipated so much. Outside, beneath a huge elm, lay Black Jack stone dead, from a frightful bayonet wound in his throat. His mask had fallen off in his death struggles, which must have been frightful, judging from the manner in which his clothes were covered with dust and the way in which the earth was kicked up all around him. Never was a more horrible face turned in such hideous blindness on the sun. His eyes were staring wide open, and his huge mouth, fringed with blood-stained froth, seemed stretched in demoniacal laughter at some horrid and unearthly orgy in which he was about to join. The sight was actually appalling; and Barry turned away from it in utter loathing to minister to those who were yet within the reach of human aid.

Although, dangerously wounded, he found that, unlike the same number of their comrades who lay stretched on the green sward without, his two companions who had been brought to the earth without being killed, were not beyond the reach of hope. With their antagonists, however, it was different; and now that Barry perceived the Kid; or Smith as we shall now call him, was fast approaching his end, in the great anxiety that he felt concerning the fate of his beloved, he knelt beside him and implored him to give him any information that he might possess regarding her, and so atone, before he crossed the threshold of the grave, for any wrong that he might have been instrumental in doing her through the machinations of others.

The dying man raised his heavy eyelids for a moment and ere they dropped again, managed, as if by one last effort, to point towards the prostrate form of the principal antagonist of our hero, who still lay insensible a short distance from him. His chest labored wildly for a few seconds, but before he could ejaculate a single word, a sudden spirt of blood leaped from his mouth and he was dead. Wilson had passed away more slowly and less perceptibly. From the moment he had been removed to the shed he spoke but once; and that was when he uttered a feeble cry for water. On beholding the latter dead, the stranger, who had lent such timely aid to our hero, regarded the silent form with a curious expression of countenance, and then turned away towards the house. In the meantime, the man who had for so far lain insensible, began to recover slowly. Hitherto, his mask which hid but half his face, leaving his mouth and chin uncovered, had not been removed; but now, as if in some uneasy dream, his trembling hand tore it mechanically away, revealing, to the utter astonishment of Barry, the hooked nose and ghastly countenance of Greaves!



CHAPTER XVI.

Had O'Neill a single troop of cavalry when he broke the British lines at Ridgeway, the 2d day of June, 1866, would have been the darkest that had ever occurred in the annals of Canada. He would have literally annihilated all the forces that were brought against him on that field, and struck such terror to the heart of the enemy, as to have still farther paralysed their volunteer service and destroyed the confidence of the Canadian people in the vaunted invincibility of the arms of England for many a long day, if not for all time to come. But owing to circumstances already referred to, he fought under every disadvantage possible to an invading army. Still, as the case stood, his triumph was not the less brilliant or decisive. He routed the enemy, horse and foot; and had he been in a position to dispose of prisoners, he could have taken a very large number with scarcely any effort; from the fact, that after the fearful charge that had broken through their lines, they became completely panic stricken and demoralized. As he pursued the flying forces towards Ridgeway, what he would have given for a few mounted riflemen or dragoons; but as a signal and glorious defeat was more his object than the spilling of blood, he now felt, unsustained as he was, it would be wise to fall back upon Fort Erie, in the hope that reinforcements had arrived there, although he was unable to leave even the smallest handful of a garrison to maintain the foothold he had so far achieved. Seeing there was nothing further to gain but everything to lose by remaining longer in a position he could not by any possibility maintain, in view of the hostile forces that he knew would soon be pouring down upon him from other quarters, he paused on the verge of the carnage that he might have wrought still further, and addressed himself to securing the safety of his little band of heroes and occupying some position on the frontier from whence he could, if hard set, effect his transit across the river, or take up a final stand, fighting until the last man fell in his ranks, if necessary to the success of any landings that he might learn of as having taken place on the Canadian shore at other points, or in view of the intention of the authorities at Buffalo to reinforce him, and enable him to pursue the campaign, so gloriously opened, with renewed hope and vigor.

The news of the disastrous defeat of the British arms spread like wild-fire; throwing the inhabitants in the immediate vicinity of Ridgeway, as well as those of the village itself, into a state of the most fearful consternation. Houses were barricaded and property concealed in the full anticipation that the conquerors would act upon the world-wide maxim, "to the victors belong the spoils." But, as we have already seen, it was the government and not the peasantry or people of the country that O'Neill had come to overthrow. No better evidence of this could be afforded than that shown by the circumstance, that, although two infamous and relentless robbers, and their scarcely less culpable acquaintance and friend, Wilson, had, for two days and two nights, followed in the wake of his army, not a single opportunity was afforded them of joining any portion of his command in a stealthy raid upon the habitations or any of the people, or of taking an advantage of the confusion and lawlessness which almost invariably surround the camp of an invader. From first to last, his troops observed with singular fidelity, his order that the lives and property of the Canadians not found in arms against him, should be held as most sacred. And in no instance, although the temptations were various and marked, was this injunction violated. On this head, Major Denison himself is most explicit; and when we have the testimony of an enemy upon the subject, the most exacting incredulity cannot look for more conclusive evidence in the premises.

As already observed, when the rout and confusion of the English commenced, they fled in all directions; but their main body set off, at full speed, for Ridgeway, through which village, and for a mile beyond it, they were pursued by the Irish forces. As was to be expected, their wounded and dying strewed the way; while those who were thoroughly acquainted with the locality made their escape to the shelter of whatever woods or dwellings were to be found along the line of retreat, without actually bordering upon it. Amongst these latter were Greaves and the persons who made such a sudden and deadly attack upon Barry while engaged in looking after the dead and wounded that were found convenient to the house already referred to. This habitation ought to have been well known to one of the party at least; for it was neither more nor less than the residence of Wilson, in which Kate M'Carthy and Martha and her aunt had barricaded themselves, in the apartment of the former, after having secured the outer doors, when they heard the tide of war rolling towards them. Wilson, understanding how the case stood with them, when he found he could not gain admission, and being sensible that they could not hear his voice, hastily effected an entrance by a window in a sort of out kitchen, attached to the rear of the building, and soon admitted his companions; re-bolting the door, and running up stairs to warn the other inmates of the house not to speak or stir, but remain barricaded as they were, until they heard from him again. This done, he descended to where his comrades were, and was about to make some observation, when the Kid instantly drew the attention of Greaves to the party who were collecting the dead and wounded hard by, among whom he at once recognized Barry. In the twinkling of an eye, the countenance of Greaves was lit with an expression the most revolting; and turning to his companions he exclaimed in a low, hissing voice—

"Now, my countrymen, we can avenge ourselves in part, at least, for the disasters of the morning. There stand some of the most active and dangerous of the army of the invader, and it is for us to take signal vengeance on them, and not permit a single one of them to escape out of our hands. We must not risk firing upon them at a distance so great; as should we chance to miss a single shot, they would be sure to slip beyond our reach. Let us rush out upon them then, with such arms as we have at our command; and after giving them a volley pounce upon them knife in hand, for they appear quite unconscious of any impending danger. Above all things, do not let that officer escape. He is the most deadly enemy we have had to encounter to-day. Let him, at least, be despatched without fail, and one thousand dollars shall be distributed amongst you the moment I find him a corpse before my eyes."

The Kid, Jack and Wilson understood all this; for the first of the villains had explained previously to the latter two, that Greaves was interested to an unaccountable extent, in the death of Barry; and had, on that very morning, before he left Ridgeway, promised him a round sum if he managed to despatch him in any way; whether by stealth, or otherwise. This he attempted, as we have already seen; but hitherto without the desired effect; so that, now, when his game was within his reach, and where he felt that he should be the gainer, no matter by whom our hero was laid low, he immediately fell into this second proposition, as did all the others who stood around him.

In a few moments, then, Wilson procured the masks already noticed; they being a portion of his stock in trade, and loading the three rifles they had at their command, the door was stealthily opened and the assault made, which had resulted in such disaster to themselves.

When Barry had recovered from the utter surprise occasioned by the presence of Greaves, and overcome the speechless astonishment into which it had thrown him, he knelt down beside the wounded man, and began to examine into the extent of his injuries. At first a few flesh wounds about the shoulders and arms were all that he could discover; and as these had bled freely, he fancied that the feeble condition of the wretch, was attributable simply to a loss of blood; and, now, that his wounds had been staunched, he believed he should gradually recover strength, so as to be able to offer some explanation of his presence in that part of the Province, as well as of the circumstances in which he now found himself. On a closer examination, however, and just about half an inch below the nipple of his left breast, the young soldier perceived a small discolored wound, evidently made with the point of his own sword during the struggle that had just terminated, and from which not a single drop of blood had flowed, outwardly at least. Here, without a doubt, all the danger lay; and as our hero was not versed in injuries, beyond the reach of external applications, all he could do was to bathe the bitter, little, blue or discolored orifice—the lips of which seemed to be pressed together in a vicious sort of manner—in some of the water that had been previously procured at the adjoining house, when the wounded men were removed from the open field. During this operation the eyes of Greaves were steadily fixed upon him, and when he had again bathed the wound and adjusted the head of the unfortunate sufferer on a pillow made of some hay found in one corner of the shed, the lips of the patient became as it were suddenly unsealed, while the light of a larger intelligence, rushed full into his eyes. At this period the wounded companions of our hero were comparatively easy, on the temporary couch made for them by the stranger, just before he disappeared and entered the dwelling a second time; so that, for the moment, there was not much to distract his attention from anything that Greaves might vouchsafe to say, some terrible foreboding having just rushed into his mind, based upon the dying intimation of Smith, that the man who lay thus helpless and for aught he knew dying before him, was in some way connected with the fate of his betrothed.

Scarcely had the conviction seized upon him, when Greaves motioned him to draw nearer. On eagerly complying with the request, he bent his ear almost to the lips of the sufferer, who breathed with great difficulty, and whose voice was scarcely audible, so weak had he become. As though by some effort of his indomitable will, however, he managed to collect all his energies into his tongue and throat; and after whispering through his compressed and pallid lips the single word "listen!" began slowly as follows:

"I am Edward Philip Darcy. I have lost, for I know that my hour has come!"

At the mention of the name "Darcy," Barry sprang to his feet! Before him lay the son of the man to whose machinations all Kate's poverty and hardships were clearly traceable. He it was that was now concerned in the Chancery suit, the decision of which was to be replete with such serious results, as he presumed, to Kate. His father had been dead for some time, and had bequeathed his interest in the case to him! He was the only person living who could stand in the way of the property it involved being placed in the hands of its lawful heir; for the claims of Darcy, whatever they might be, expired with this, his only son, and the last of his name and race. The consideration was startling in the extreme; but as our hero saw how necessary it was to command his feelings, and listen to whatever Greaves, or Darcy, as we shall now call him, intended to say, he resumed his position and listened, as the wounded man continued:—

"I worshipped gold and power; and as there was some fear of the suit, of which you have often heard, being decided against as, on the death of my father, I stepped into his shoes, as a man who could make himself useful to the Government, and as one, in these troublous times, pre-eminently calculated to dip into the secrets of Fenianism at home and abroad, and apprise the British authorities of its power, aims and objects, as well as make them acquainted with all its plans and prospects. Although I now surmise I had really to do with the Privy Council itself, I was ostensibly employed by an important official connected with the Castle of Dublin, who, besides paying me liberally for my services, promised to influence the Court of Chancery in my favor, touching the decision now pending; provided that, after doing all I could to unearth the leaders and plans of Fenianism in Ireland, I crossed the Atlantic and commenced operations upon the Brotherhood in America, of which the Canadian government seemed unable to say much that was definite, however they might have apprehended mischief from this quarter. It was known at home, that but little confidence could be placed in the efficiency and honesty of a Cabinet that tolerated a shuffling inebriate at its head; so that from the contradictory official documents reaching the Castle from Canada, through the Imperial authorities, it was, I suppose, deemed advisable to send me out to learn something of the true state of the case. Influenced thus, I set about my work with right good will; and after doing what I could in Ireland, started for this country, with Fenian credentials that, I need not inform you, were obtained through the treason of one of the Organization who had gained admission into the Brotherhood for the simple purpose of betraying it; but who was not sufficiently deep in its plans and confidence to damage it mortally.

"But the strongest inducement I had to visit America was the circumstance of Kate McCarthy's having emigrated to that country, and a desire which I had long felt of gaining her affections and, if possible, making her my wife; for notwithstanding all the promises of the Castle, I was fearful that the Chancery suit would go against me—a suspicion heightened by the conviction of my lawyer. I knew, of course, all about your engagement to her, but being aware of your having entered the army, and of your having, through an adverse fate, been separated from her by two seas, I thought that I should be able to estrange her feelings and love from you, and make her mine before you again saw her face. But here I had deceived myself. She was not to be moved, and I was repulsed at every point, until, maddened by repeated failures, I determined to make her mine by force. Under the name of Edward Lauder, I first was introduced to her, having managed to trace her from Quebec to Toronto, after rendering good service to the home government in the former city. From the first moment she beheld me, she seemed to entertain an aversion towards me; and when she became aware of my intentions regarding herself, and heard my repeated insinuations touching the general faithlessness and bad character of private soldiers on foreign service, all semblance of cordiality was at an end between us; and soon, perceiving that her friends favored my suit, she left Toronto and took up her abode with some relatives in Buffalo."

Here the wounded man became faint and silent; but Nicholas, anxious to hear all he had to say, bathed his brow and moistened his lips with the water which still stood in a large wooden vessel by his side. This seemed to refresh and revive his spirits; so that he soon continued, although with increasing difficulty.

"I knew that your regiment was stationed in the city where I first met you; and the thought struck me, that if I could separate you both forever, by betraying you into some act that would consign you to a dungeon or penal servitude for life, or else make away with you secretly, I should have some hope of accomplishing my designs regarding her; and, in case the Chancery suit was decided against me, reap the full advantages of it after all.