He had just gained the fence that surrounded the cottage, when looking back he saw a body of dragoons beating the edge of the wood that he had left half an hour before. They had not caught sight of him for their attention was fixed on the fern and briars that skirted the wood, but he had not a moment to lose. He could not retrace his steps and so gain the friendly shelter of the little stream, nor could he now make for the beach as had been at first his intention. But crushing his way through the thorn hedge, he came into a little garden. The door of the house was lying open, and he saw what he had not noticed before, that the inmates must be already astir, for a thick smoke was rising into the morning air. He knew that his pursuers could not fail to find him in the garden, and he determined to take his chance, and to trust to the humanity of the people in the cottage to conceal him. This resolution he had taken not without some hope of finding friends, for there was a homeliness and air of comfort in the place that seemed to him little in keeping with the character of the Celt. When he entered the door he found himself in a spacious kitchen. A woman was standing on the hearth cooking some fish that gave forth an appetizing smell. As she heard him coming in she dropped the frying pan, and running over to the corner of the dresser, seized an old musket that was lying against it. “For God´s sake, hear me,” cried Gervase; “do not shoot.” “What do you want?” she said, still holding the weapon ready for use and looking at him with a doubtful air. Her speech at once assured him that he had found a friend. “I have come from the city,” he said; “I have been travelling all night and am trying for the ships. The dragoons are after me now, and if you do not help me, I will be taken.” She dropped the musket, and running over took hold of him by both hands. “My poor lad, my poor lad,” she cried, “you are but a woeful sight. If they haven´t seen you coming in I think I can save you. My good man lay a day in the loft and they couldn´t find him, though they searched high up and low down. He´s in the city like yourself and now--but I would like to ask you a question or two. Where are they now?” “Close by the edge of the wood and I think they are coming down this way.” “Then my questions will keep. You´ll step softly after me, for the young folk are still asleep upstairs, and it would never do they should see you now. I was before Derry myself,” she continued, as she led the way up the ladder to the loft above the kitchen, “but they are well-mannered enough and don´t trouble me now.”