On the other band it was almost clear, from the manner in which the person before him pronounced certain words, as well as from his figure, that he was the celebrated and mysterious Buck English of whose means of living every one was ignorant, and who, as he himself had heard, expressed a strong dislike to him.
"Before I make up my mind," said M'Carthy, "may I ask another question ?" "Fifty if you like, but I won't promise to answer any one o' them." "Was I brought to Finnerty's house with an evil purpose ?" "No: the poor, pious fool that brought you--there--but I'm wrong in sayin' so--for it was the mist that done it.

No, the poor fool that came there with you is a crature that nobody would trust.

He thinks you're lyin' sound asleep in Finnerty's this minute.

He's fit for nothing but prayin' and thinking the girls in love with him." "Well," replied M'Carthy, "at all events you are a brother Irishman, and I will put confidence in you; come, I am ready to accompany you." "In that case, then, you must suffer me to blacken your face, and for fear your shoot-in' jacket might betray you, I'll put this shirt over it." He then pulled out an old piece of crumpled paper that contained a mixture of lampblack and grease, with which he besmeared his whole face, from his neck to the roots of his hair, after which he stripped the shirt he wore outside his clothes, and in about two or three minutes completely metamorphosed our friend M'Carthy into a thorough-looking Whiteboy.
"Come along now," said he, "and folly me; but even as it is, and in spite of your disguise, we must take the lonesomest way to the only place I think you'll be safe in." "I am altogether in your hands," replied M'Carthy, "and shall act as you wish." They then proceeded across the country for about two miles, keeping up towards the mountainous district, after which they made a turn and entered a deep valley, in whose lowest extremity stood a long, low house.
"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.