“Now,” said the stranger, “before we go in here, remember what I'm goin' to say to' you. If any one--I mean a Whiteboy,”--here M'Carthy started, struck by the peculiarity of the pronunciation--a circumstance which by no means strengthened his sense, of security--“if any of them should come across you and ask you for the pass, here it is. _What's the hour?_ Answer--_Very near the right one. Isn't it come yet?_ Answer--_The hour is come, but not the man. When will he come?_ Answer--_He is within sight_.” He repeated these words three or four times, after which he and M'Carthy entered the house. “God save all here!” said the guide. “God save you kindly, boys.” “Mrs. Cassidy,” he continued, “here's poor fellow on his keepin' for tithe business and although you don't know me, I know you well enough to be sartin that you'll give this daicent boy a toss in a bed till daybreak--an' a mouthful to ate if he should want it.” “Troth an' I will, sir; isn't one o' my poor boys in Lisnagola goal for the same tithes--bad luck to them--that is for batin' one of the vagabonds that came to collect them. Troth he'll have the best bed in my house.” “And listen, Mrs. Cassidy; if any of us should happen to come here to-night--although I don't think it's likely they will, still it's hard to say, for the country's alive with with them--if any of them should come here, don't let them know that this poor boy is in the house--do you mind?” “Ah, then, it would be a bad day or night either I wouldn't.” “Will you have anything to ate or dhrink,” asked the guide of M'Carthy.. “Nothing,” replied the other; “I only wish to get to bed.” “Come, then,” said the colossal Whiteboy, “I'll show you where you're to lie.” They accordingly left the kitchen, passed through a tolerably large room, with two or three tables and several chairs in it, and entered another, which was also of a good size. Here there was a bed, and in this M'Carthy was to rest--if rest he could under a series of circumstances so extraordinary and exciting. “Now,” said his guide, for such we must call him--“observe this,” and he brought him to a low window which opened at the back of the house, “press that spot where you see the frame is sunk a little--you can feel it, too, aisily enough in the dark--very well, press that with your thumb and the windy will open by being pushed outwards. If you feel or find that there's any danger you can slip out of it; however, don't be alarmed bekase you may hear voices. There's only one set that you may be afraid of--they're on the look-out for yourself--but I don't think it's likely they'll come here. If they do, however, and that you hear them talkin' about you, there's your way to get off. Come, now, I must try you again before I go. What's the hour?” “Very near the right one.” “Isn't it come yet?” “The hour is come but not the man.” “When will he come?” “He is within sight.”