The sound of voices and the tramp of feet outside now drew O’Shea to the window, and passing out on the balcony, he saw a considerable crowd of country-people assembled beneath. They were all armed with sticks, and had that look of mischief and daring so unmistakable in a mob. As the young man stood looking at them, some one pointed him out to the rest, and a wild yell, mingled with hisses, now broke from the crowd. He was turning away from the spot in disgust when he found that Gill had stationed himself at the window, and barred the passage. ‘The boys want another look at ye,’ said Gill insolently; ‘go back and show yourself: it is not every day they see an informer.’ ‘Stand back, you old fool, and let me pass,’ cried O’Shea. ‘Touch me if you dare; only lay one finger on me in my own house,’ said the fellow, and he grinned almost in his face as he spoke. ‘Stand back,’ said Gorman, and suiting the action to the word, he raised his arm to make space for him to pass out. Gill, no sooner did he feel the arm graze his chest, than he struck O’Shea across the face; and though the blow was that of an old man, the insult was so maddening that O’Shea, seizing him by the arms, dragged him out upon the balcony. ‘He’s going to throw the old man over,’ cried several of those beneath, and amidst the tumult of voices, a number soon rushed up the stairs and out on the balcony, where the old fellow was clinging to O’Shea’s legs in his despairing attempt to save himself. The struggle scarcely lasted many seconds, for the rotten wood-work of the balcony creaked and trembled, and at last gave way with a crash, bringing the whole party to the ground together. [Illustration: The balcony creaked and trembled, and at last gave way] A score of sticks rained their blows on the luckless young man, and each time that he tried to rise he was struck back and rolled over by a blow or a kick, till at length he lay still and senseless on the sward, his face covered with blood and his clothes in ribbons. ‘Put him in a cart, boys, and take him off to the gaol,’ said the attorney, McEvoy. ‘We’ll be in a scrape about all this, if we don’t make _him_ in the wrong.’ His audience fully appreciated the counsel, and while a few were busied in carrying old Gill to the house--for a broken leg made him unable to reach it alone--the others placed O’Shea on some straw in a cart, and set out with him to Kilbeggan. ‘It is not a trespass at all,’ said McEvoy. ‘I’ll make it a burglary and forcible entry, and if he recovers at all, I’ll stake my reputation I transport him for seven years.’ A hearty murmur of approval met the speech, and the procession, with the cart at their head, moved on towards the town. CHAPTER LV TWO J.P.’S