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seized by the O'Hara and Eagan on the Broughshane Road in broad daylight and carried off. It was a day or twa before the troops sent in pursuit found him, and when they did find him he was tied to a tree in Duncairn Wood, and had been lashed to death just as he had lashed the auld woman. Day after day and night after night the twa men turned up whar they were least expected and revenged wi'out pity some outrage on the Glens folk. It was noticed soon that they bothered themselves in no way about outrages on Presbyterians; but a yeoman or trooper wha had lashed a Glens man Or ravished a Glens Woman wasna Safe in the middle o' a regiment. And soon it grew that if a redshank was interfered wi', he wad threaten them wi' the vengeance O' the O'Hara, and it was a threat naebody a 'thegither liked. Times and times the soldiers thought they had got him. Cordons o' horse wad be thrown round districts whar he or Eagan had been seen and drawn closer and closer, every bush and hole and house being searched on the way. Usually no trace o 'them was found. Sometimes, on the other hand, they were there, but they aye in the end broke through the cordon, sometimes killing a trooper or twa, but ever escaping unhurt themsel’s. After a wee the queerest stories began to get round among the troops, and, indeed, ower a’ the countryside. Folks got to recaa'ing that lang Syne mony had doubted if the O'Hara hadna sauld himsel’ to the deevil. And now his daring deeds and his constant escapes from what should wi' ony ane else hae been certain death made maist folks sure that he had. And when this belief got about folks told the most uncanny things about him. Ane was that he could see just as weel in the dark as in broad daylight, and maybe that was true, for wi' such flaming eyes as he had naebody could speer
what he mightn't be able to do. Anither was that bullets didna hurt him. Man after man told how he had fired straight on him as he passed, and he had run on as unwounded and unconcerned as if a pea had been blawed at him. And Tam Phipps o' Montgomery's Horse told the strangest tale o' a'. He Said he struck him ance a fair stroke wi' his Sabre ower the shoulder, strang enough to lop his arm aff, but the Sword Wadna cut him. The edge o' it just turned ower, whilst a stoon ran up Tam's ain arm as if the sword had caught lightning. Every ane kent that Tam was a lying, boasting body, aye fu' o' wonderfu' experiences and adventures, but still, when he told the story and showed his blunted sword, folks couldna but feel a wee uneasy. Well, what wi' a' these bogle stories about him, and what wi' his wonderfu' daring and more wonderfu' escapes, and what wi' the number o' them he had killed frae time to time, and what wi' his fearsome appearance wi' his flaming eyes and red-brown beard, the maist o' the troops sent after him got as feared O' him as feared could be. Mony o' them doubted if the O'Hara wasna the very deevil himsel’ come to earth to help the papists, and mony mair were convinced that at ony rate he was under the deevil's care and protection. At last it grew to this, that when they thought he was near them they turned pale wi' fear, and when they saw him they were so fu' o' terror that they had hardly strength enough to pu' a trigger, let alone steadiness enough to tak’ an aim. And a' this warked out to the safety o' the O'Hara. Well, the Government got fairly mad wi' everybody connected wi' the business. They blamed Nabob Starkie for driving the O'Hara into rebellion, and that was ane o' the reasons they retired him and gave his corps to Colonel Adair, but only ane o’ them. A mair
important ane was maybe the Nabob's out summons, mounted his horse, and unpopularity now that the frenzy o' the bidding them mak' as little noise as rising was ower. And they blamed they could, rode oft towards the auld the officers o' the troops searching for Duncairn Road. They rode silently the outlaws for want o'tact and en- along it till they were in the Duncairn ergy, and they directed Colonel Adair Wood, within twa mile or so o' auld himsel' to tak' on the pursuit in person. Duncairn Castle. Here not far frae
Colonel Adair soon after he took ower the road there was a rough bit o' a clift the command showed a great liking for some hundred feet high, wi' sma' my father, and, as you ken, he later at ledges on its face and sma' bushes tached him to bis ain private service, growing here and there. Under this where he long remained. The first the Colonel dismounted, and motioned proof he had that he was a favorite his men to do the same. When they was ane evening when the Colonel sent had done so be said to them, speaking for him privately.
very quietly"Sergeant Thomson," said he, "you "Lads, I have information that the know this corps better than I do. Now O'Hara and MacEagan are hiding in I want to-night a dozen men for secret some old secret dungeons underneath service--it's not dangerous but it may the ruins of Duncairn Castle. There's be trying to their nerves. I want meil a subterranean passage leads to them who are not always channering about from the face o' this cliff. It's long warlocks and bogles, and who would and it's dark and it's low, and we must face the devil himsel' if he did turn crawl along it without noise on our up. Get them ready by twelve to hunkers till we get to the dungeons. If night, and tell no living thing anything all has gone well they won't have any about this."
firearms to use, but I cannot speak My father said naething, but as he surely of this. Now, I want six of went awa' to carry out the Colonel's you to come with me up the passage orders he thought to himself-"Heav- armed only with pistols, the others to ens above us! is it possible he's going remain here and guard the entrance to try and catch the O'Hara wi' only and our horses and swords. Who twelve men? Pray God ony o' us ever will volunteer to come?" sees the morn's light again.”
Well, Starkie's men may bae been Well, he quietly warned twelve o as wicked and as cruel as men can be, the stoutest-nerved men in the corps but they were brave lads. Every man to be ready for service the night at o' them volunteered. twelve, and to say no word about it. “You cannot all come," said Colonel to ony ane. And then he went to his Adair. "Sergeant Thomson, you have ain quarters and drew the charges o' picked well the men to start with us: his pair o' holster pistols and recharged now pick again the men to come with them, putting in instead o' bullets twa us to the end." silver buttons that he cut frae bis My father soon made his choice. service waistcoat. Not that he ever Those selected took off their swords, believed that the O'Hara was a war looked to the priming o' their pistols, lock, but he was aye a prudent man, and then climbed after the Colonel to and he thought it weel to be on the safe a wee ledge about half way up the side,
face o' the cliff. There the Colonel At twelve o'clock my father wi' the pu'ed frae behind a bit bush a thin twelve troopers rode slowly up to the skelf o' stane, and behind it the men Colonel's quarters. He came out wi'. could see through the darkness a black
hole aboot twa feet high and three wide. The Colonel creeped through it, my father followed, and the other men came after ane by ane. After the party had gone a hundred yards or so, the roof grew higher and the floor smoother; but still they a' had to travel on their hands and knees. It was, my father confessed, gey nervous wark creeping along for twa miles under the grund and in the dark, wi' the prospect o' grappling wi' the warlock O'Hara and the giant MacEagan when you got to the end. But name o' the men faltered in the task. At last they saw a light afore them, and a whisper passed doon the line to be mair carefu' than ever. They a' crept along as noiselessly as a cat stalking a bird, till they reached a door just enough ajar to let a ray o' light through. Then there was a pause, while they got their breath for the attack. At last Colonel Adair flung the door wide and sprang intil the room. As he did so he cried in a loud voice, “Surrender, in the King's name!” My father jumped in after him. When he got intil the room the O'Hara had seized a pair o' pistols, and had one levelled at the Colonel's head. He pu'ed the trigger. There was nae flash. He glanced at it hastily and flung it to the ground. He glanced at the other and seemed for, a second dumbfounded. Then he flung it down and caught a sword frae the was’ and rushed on the Colonel. Colonel Adair fired. He told my father he didna want to kill him, and so, as you might speer, he missed him a’thegither. My father, to save the Colonel, now fired. He hit the O'Hara on the thigh, and he fell at ance to the ground. My father and the Colonel sprang on him. All this had occupied only twa seconds. Eagan MacEagan had stood throughout it paralyzed wi' surprise. The faa' o' the O'Hara brought him to
his senses, and he seized a pike and dashed at Colonel Adair and my father, wi' whom the O'Hara was struggling wi' the strength o' a giant in spite o' the wound in his leg and his sma' size. By this time the other troopers had got intil the room, and they got between MacEagan and the three men fighting on the floor. They caught the pike, and levelled pistols at MacEagan's head. As they did this, a wee, thin, piercing voice caa'd oot— “Dinna hurt my father! Dinna hurt my father! The Colonel promised he wadna suffer.” My father says the O'Hara heard Michael MacEagan's shrill voice above the din o' the fechting, and immediately, ceased to struggle. He lay still for a moment, and then he said in a low tone, “Help me up, gentlemen: I Surrender!” Eagan MacEagan had heard his son's voice too, and the words a'thegither dumbfounded him. He too ceased to struggle. He stood quiet and silent, gazing from ane to anither in a dazed way, as if trying to understand what had happened. A guard was placed on him. Colonel Adair and my father lifted the O'Hara into a chair. Apparently the shot had broken his leg. One o' the troopers that had been orderly to a surgeon during the rebellion bandaged the wound as well as he could. Meanwhile my father turned ower the table and took the feet off it, so as to mak’ it into a sort o' cradle on which to push the wounded O'Hara doon the lang souterrain. As they were finishing their preparations for leaving the dungeon, my father heard wee Michael MacEagan whispering to Eagan in Erse, “It was to save oursel's, father, that I done it.” Eagan looked at him in a dazed way. My father never was certain whether he understood the words or no. After much trouble the O'Hara and
d what dhe
Eagan were got through the souter- wee, "dinna think it's wi' ony glee I'm rain. The other troopers left behind doing this wark, but it is my duty." were getting very anxious, for the "I didna blame you, Colonel," anarresting party had been awa' twa or swered the O'Hara. “I tried to do my three hours. As my father bad fired duty too." the shot that broke the O'Hara's leg, A minute or twa after they reached he insisted that the O'Hara should hae this cliff, just about whar we are sitbis horse. The Colonel approved, and ting. As they did so, the O'Han saddirected my father to tak' the bridle, dently kicked his horse fiercely wi' the while he himselrode by his side. heel o' his unwounded leg. It bounded Eagan MacEagan, as he was by the ar forward, pu'ing the reins frae my farangement wl' Michael to be pardoned, ther's hands, and nearly knocking wasna bound, but walked a few paces Colonel Adair out o' his saddle. Bebehind his maister, while the troopers fore ony ane kenned what he was rode in files on each side. Michael about, the O'Hara jumped the horse walked by himsel behint, naebody ower this dike and headed straight for speaking to him or caring for his com- the cliff. Colonel Adair caa'd on him pany.
to stop, but he answered only wi' a It was a cauld clear morn, my father wave o' his hand as the horse wi' him said, when the wee company left the on its back bounded ower the edge o' auld Duncairn Road and debouched on the precipice. this mountain-path along the clifs, All the company ran up as near the about a mile south frae here. The tide edge as they daured in fine excitewas out, and the sun was just rising ment. As they glowered ower it a ower the far awa' hills o' Scotland. wild squeel o' terror was heard. Every Up till then the O'Hara hadna ance ane turned towards whar it came frae, spoken. When the fresh air o' the and there they saw Eagan MacEagan sea blew on his pale face he wakened wi' wee Michael in his arms disappearup a wee and looked out ance or twice ing ower the edge, shouting as he went, in a wistfu' sort o' way ower the “Ye misshapen cur, come after the ocean. Then he drooped his head on maister ye hae betrayed!" his breast again and seemed to muse. When Colonel Adair had recovered Suddently a bit doon there be lifted from his amazement at this awfu' endhis head and turned to Colonel ing o' the business, he caa'd on his men Adair.
to follow him doon to the shore to re"It's a sair thing, Colonel," he said, cover the bodies before the tide came "that the last o' the O'Haras should in. Though they went doon the hill die on the scaffold like a felon."
at a brave pace, it took them a good "It is a sair thing, O'Hara," answered wee while to reach the bottom o' the Colonel Adair, in a very soft and clic. When they got there they started kindly voice.
looking into ane anither's faces in a The O'Hara was silent again for a startled way. The bodies o' wee Mi. minute.
chael and the horse were there dead "And it's a sairer thing," he then enough, but na trace could they find o said, “that he should be betrayed to those o' the O'Hara and Eagan! As death by ane o' his ain household.” they searched right and left wi'out re
"It is a very sair thing," answered sult, the men whispered in an awesome Colonel Adair,
way amang themsel's. The clif is five The O'Hara was again silent.
hundred feet high. Nae human being "O'Hara," said Colonel Adair after a could jump ower it and live wi'out the
aid o' heaven or hell. Had the O'Hara some such aid after a’? The men, ay and Colonel Adair himsel', were as pale as corpses as they thought o' a' this, and my father thanked God he had put the silver buttons in his pistols, or maybe mane o’ the yeomen wad e'er hae left that auld secret dungeon alive that morn. When my father had gathered his wits thegither again, he thought o' an explanation which was afterwards put about as the true ane by the authorities. The shore along the cliff here was then, as now, a great place for kelp-gatherers; and then, as now, they came doon to it whenever the tide Was out, though it was the very skreigh o' day; and then, as now, a the kelp-gatherers were Glens folk. That morn my father noted not ane was to be seen when the troopers reached the shore. Well, how was that? Was it no that they had seen the men coming ower the cliff, and finding out wha they were, had, to save the bodies frae indignity, ta'en them awa’ to ane o' the mony caves kent o' only by themsel’s and their friends the smugglers? Blackwood's Magazine.
However that may be, the bodies were never found, and the Glens folk wad never admit that the last O'Hara was dead. They always said that he was saved by the intervention o' the Virgin, and was living wi' his faithfu' Eagan in a cave high up the face o' the cliff, whar he wad bide till the Catholics were ance mair oppressed, when he wad ance mair come to their aid. Ay, and the Protestants, though they pretended they had nae doubt but the bodies had been stolen awa’ and buried secretly, were in truth no sae sure o’ that after a’. Lang, lang after the leap, travellers by night ower the auld Duncairn Road wad tell tales O' seeing the O'Hara or his ghaist, wi' his big flaming eyes and his big red-brown beard, hovering about among the dark places in Duncairn Wood, and for mony years ony ane wha had done wrang to a Glens man wad grue when such tales were told. And to this day auld. Protestant women along the shore still talk o' the warlock O'Hara, and frighten their bairns wi' the terror o' his name.
GO TO SKELLIG !
“Skellig! Skellig! Go to Skellig!” It is half a lifetime since I heard the cry, but it rings in my ears still. Each Shrove-Tuesday in those far-off days a band of “the boys” paraded, making life painfully adventurous for any of either sex who had too long run counter to local sentiment by avoiding the holy estate of matrimony. The penalty in the case of the unprotected was sometimes rough enough. Buckets full of water, a souse in sea or lake, a compulsory boating, these were some of the consequences; plead as the victims might, there was no escaping the water. A form of torture less primi
tive, but often exquisitely painful, was the Skellig List. In it the weapons of anonymous Satire had unlimited play: names were coupled together in a way that was always reckless; and when for any reason the subjects were unpopular, the list degenerated into an exceedingly scurrilous lampoon. It is no wonder that as Shrove-Tuesday drew near, bachelors and spinsters alike winced at the thought of being exposed to such floods of ribald raillery. I do not know that it would be possible to recover specimens of those old Skellig Lists, proper or improper;