No signs of any parties of the enemy were seen during their ride, and after proceeding some five-and-twenty miles, they dismounted, and with a hearty farewell from Captain Davenant, and a cheer from the men, they started on foot.
The letters of which Walter was the bearer had been written on very small pieces of paper, and had been sewn up inside the collar of his coat.

His instructions, as to the persons on whom he was to call, had been learned by heart and the paper destroyed.

Larry was in high glee at taking part in the adventure, and laughed and jested as they made their way along.
They avoided the main roads running to Waterford and Dublin, as they would probably have fallen in with parties of troops journeying west, and might have been shot out of pure wantonness, besides being exposed to the risk of being asked awkward questions.

They slept at peasants' houses, where they were everywhere hospitably received, as soon as their hosts assured themselves that they were Catholics.

Larry was the principal spokesman, for although Walter, like all the Catholic gentry, spoke the native language, he was not so fluent as his follower, to whom it came naturally, as, although the peasantry in the neighbourhood of Dublin were all able to speak English, they always conversed in Irish among themselves.