“I'm thinking,” said Darby, after a pause of some minutes,--“I 'm thinking it 's better for you not to go into Athlone with me; for if Basset wishes to track you out, that 'll be the first place he 'll try. Besides, now that the major has seen you, he'll never forget you.” Having pledged myself to adopt any course my companion recommended, he resumed,-- “Ay, that 's the best way. I 'll lave you at Ned Malone's in the Glen; and when I 've done with the major in the morning, I 'll look after your friend the captain, and tell him where you are.” I readily assented to this arrangement; and only asked what distance it might yet be to Ned Malone's, for already I began to feel fatigue. “A good ten miles,” said Darby,--“no less; but we 'll stop here above, and get something to eat, and then we 'll take a rest for an hour or two, and you 'll think nothing of the road after.” I stepped out with increased energy at the cheering prospect; and although the violence of the weather was nothing abated, I consoled myself with thinking of the rest and refreshment before me, and resolved not to bestow a thought upon the present. Darby, on the other hand, seemed more depressed than before, and betrayed in many ways a state of doubt and uncertainty as to his movements,--sometimes pushing on rapidly for half a mile or so; then relapsing into a slow and plodding pace; often looking back too, and more than once coming to a perfect stand-still, talking the whole time to himself in a low muttering voice. In this way we proceeded for above two miles, when at last I descried through the beating rain the dusky gable of a small cabin in the distance, and eagerly asked if that were to be our halting place. “Yes,” said Darby, “that 's Peg's cabin; and though it 's not very remarkable in the way of cookery or the like, it 's the only house within seven miles of us.”