"We demanded five hundred pounds for a Major on the staff; suppose we say two, Colonel, is that sufficient?" asked Peters of the President.
"I should say quite enough," was the reply.
"There's eighty of it any way," said the farmer, producing a dirty roll of bank notes, and throwing them on the table; "I got them from Mr. Murphy in Smithfield this morning, and I'll get twice as much more from him for asking; so if your honors will wait 'till I come back, I'll not be twenty minutes away."
"But we can't take your money, my man; we have no right to touch it."
"Then what are ye talking about two hundred pounds for?" asked he, sternly.
"We want your promise to pay in the event of this bail being broken."
"Oh, I see, it's all the same thing in the end; I'll do it either way."
"We'll accept Mr. Murphy's guarantee for your solvency," said Peters; "obtain that and you can sign the bond at once."
"Faith I'll get it sure enough, and be here before you've the writing drawn out;" said he, buttoning up his coat.
"What name are we to insert in the bond?"
"That's the prisoner's name, but we want yours."
"Mine's Tiernay too, sir, Pat Tiernay of the Black Pits."
Before I could recover from my surprise at this announcement he had left the Court, which, in a few minutes afterward, broke up, a clerk alone remaining to fill up the necessary documents and complete the bail-bond.
The Colonel, as well as two others of his officers, pressed me to join them at breakfast, but I declined, resolving to wait for my name-sake's return, and partake of no other hospitality than his.
It was near one o'clock when he returned, almost worn out with fatigue, since he had been in pursuit of Mr. Murphy for several hours, and only came upon him by chance at last. His business, however, he had fully accomplished; the bail-bond was duly drawn out and signed, and I left the barrack in a state of happiness very different from the feeling with which I had entered it that day.
My new acquaintance never ceased to congratulate himself on what he called the lucky accident that had led him to the barracks that morning, and thus brought about our meeting. "Little as you think of me, my dear," said he, "I'm one of the Tiernays of Timmahoo myself; faix, until I saw you, I thought I was the last of them! There are eight generations of us in the church-yard at Kells, and I was looking to the time when they'd lay my bones there, as the last of the race, but I see there's better fortune before us."