The festivities were continued until nearly break of day, when the detective, learning that his partner had no male attendant, politely volunteered to accompany her home, which she said was no great distance away. Miss Kate accepted the proffer, as McKenna afterwards thought, with slight evidence of embarrassment, and looking furtively about her, as though in search of some one she had rather expected to see. But if there was any person present, her roguish eye failed to discern the fact, and, placing one hand upon the arm of her escort they were soon lost in the darkness. [Illustration: “_Placing one hand on the arm of her escort, they were soon lost in the darkness._”] Con O’Donnel was still looking after the couple, around the protecting and shaded corner of the widow’s shanty, from which, with a sly chuckle, when the coast was clear, he quickly emerged and walked to the vicinity of the drunken man. That he was bent upon mischief those who saw the merry twinkle in his eye were well convinced. It is unnecessary to enter into a minute description of the pleasant walk that McKenna enjoyed with Miss McIntyre. Knowing well that his companions from Hazelton would await his reappearance among them—as the majority were in no condition, from the poteen they had imbibed, to undertake the home journey—he and his fair lady did not hurry toward the protecting paternal roof. On the contrary, as has been the usage since the days of Adam, they made haste slowly, enlivening the trip with cheerful conversation, reference to the festive occasion and lucky chance that brought them together, with such other talk as would naturally suggest itself to a pair in their exact mental and physical condition. It was a long story—and a wrong story, too, it appears—that vivacious Miss McIntyre related to her impromptu beau, about her parents’ home, the family, and the trouble they had to get along during the suspension. McKenna was already hinting that, if he were a little better acquainted, perhaps he might be bold enough to ask the father to part with his child, press her to change her condition in life and become Mrs. McKenna, and Miss Kate had started and blushed—but that could hardly be seen in the dusky gray of the misty morning—when both distinctly heard sounds of footsteps coming swiftly toward them from the direction of widow Breslin’s place. Miss McIntyre suddenly withdrew her arm from that of her chevalier, paused in her tracks and listened breathlessly for a moment, then, in a faint and trembling voice ejaculated: “My God! It is my husband! Our lives are in danger! He will kill us both! What shall I do?”