The Northern Iron Part 19

"Charlie," he cried, "are you there, Charlie?"

A young man emerged from one of the stables. He started at the sight of Hope.

"Are you mad, Jemmy Hope?" he said. "Are you mad, that you come here, and every stable full of dragoons' horses? They have them billeted on us, curse them, and the villains are in the coachhouse polishing their bits and stirrup irons. Hark to them."

"I hear them," said Hope. "Get me two of your oat sacks, Charlie, good strong ones. I have goods here that want protecting from the sunlight."

The man cast a swift glance round, ran to one of the stables, and fetched the sacks.

"Now, Neal, pack up, pack up."

He pushed his own cases into one of the sacks. Neal followed his example.

"It won't do," said Hope, "the sacks don't look natural. There are too many sharp corners bulging out. Charlie, lad, fetch us some straw--a good armful."

While they were stuffing the sacks with the straw one of the dragoons swaggered across the yard. He stood watching Hope and Neal for a minute or two, and then said.

"What have you there that you're so mighty careful of?"

"Whisht, man, whisht," said Hope, "it's not safe to be talking of what's here."

He winked at the soldier as he spoke--a sly, humorous wink--a wink which hinted at a good joke to come. The dragoon, a fat, good-natured man', grinned in reply.

"I won't split on you, you young thieves. I've taken my share of loot before this, and I expect some pickings out of the croppies' houses before I've done. I won't cry halvers on you. What's yours is yours. But tell us what it is."

"It's cases of cartridges," said Hope, winking again. "We're taking them to the general in command of the rebel army, so don't be interfering with us or maybe they'll hold a courtmartial on you."

The fat dragoon laughed. The idea of packing up ammunition for the croppies in the temporary barrack of a squadron of dragoons, and using His Majesty's straw to stuff the sacks, appealed to him as extremely comic. Hope and Neal shouldered their bundles and left the yard.

"I'm afraid," said Hope, "that we can't store these in Matier's house.

When Barber learns that the cases are gone he'll search high and low for them, and Matier's will be just one of the places he'll look sooner or later. Are you good for a tramp, Neal, with that load on your back?"

"Yes," said Neal, "I'll carry mine for miles if you like."

"Then," said Hope-, "we'll just look in at Matier's as we pa.s.s, and if the coast's clear I'll leave word where we're going. I know a snug place on the side of the Cave Hill where we can lie for the night. To-morrow you can join your uncle at Donegore."

There were no soldiers round the inn when they reached it. Felix Matier and Donald Ward were both out. Hope left his message with Peg Macllrea, who was sanding the parlour.

"So you're going to sleep out the night on the Cave Hill?" she said to Neal. "That'll be queer and good for your clouted head I'm thinkin'."

"It'll do my head no harm," said Neal. "You know well enough, Peg, that there never was much the matter with it."

They shouldered their loads again, walked up the street, and then, quickening their pace, tramped along the Sh.o.r.e Road for about three miles.

"Now," said Hope, "turn to the left up that loaning, and we'll strike for the hill."

They crossed the fields round the homesteads which lay between the hill and the road, reached uncultivated and stony ground, and then commenced their climb. Neal was strong, active, and accustomed to fatigue, but he began to feel the weight of his sack of cartridge cases before he had climbed five hundred feet. When Hope bade him halt he was glad enough to lie panting on the springy heather.

"We're safe now," said Hope, "but we've got further to go before night.

We must make the place I named so that the men will be able to find me and the cartridges to-morrow morn."

Neal, ashamed of his weariness, bade Hope lead on.

"I might have trysted with them for Mac Art's Fort," said Hope. "It was there that Neilson and Tone and M'Cracken swore the oath. That would have been a brave romantic spot for you and me to spend the night. We might have thought of great things there with the stars over us and nothing else between us and G.o.d's heaven. But it's a draughty place, lad." The laughter came into his eyes as he spoke. "A draughty place and a stony, like Luz, where Jacob lay, and maybe the angels wouldn't come near the likes of us. The place I have in my mind is warmer."

They reached it at last--a little heathery hollow, lying under the shelter of great rocks.

"You might sleep in a worse place, Neal. It was here that Wolfe Tone and the men I told you of dined three years ago--and a merry day they had of it. I could wish we had a few of the sc.r.a.ps they left. It's cold work sleeping in the open on an empty stomach, but we must just cheer each other with Tone's byword--

"''Tis but in vain For soldiers to complain.'"

Neal, lying full length on the heather in the warmth of the afternoon sun, dropped off to sleep. He had undergone severe physical exertion, which told on him. He had been through an hour and more of great excitement, which exhausted him far more than the exertion. When he woke the sun had sunk behind the hill, and the air was pleasantly cool. Hope sat beside him, gazing out across the Lough and the town which lay below them.

"I've been thinking, Neal, of that man Finlay. He was frightened to-day when we were in his house. Now what had he to be frightened about?"

"I don't know," said Neal, "but I agree with you. The man certainly wasn't play-acting. He was in real fear."

"I think," said Hope, "that he was afraid the soldiers would take us and hang us."

"But," said Neal, "why should he fear that when he has betrayed us?"

"The human heart," said Hope, after a pause, "is a strange thing. The Book tells us that no man is altogether good; no, not one, and that's true. Never was a truer word. We try, lad, we try, and the grace of G.o.d works in us, but there remains the old leaven of evil; ay, it's there, even in the heart of a saint. Now, it isn't written, but I think it's just as true that there's no man altogether bad. There's a spark of good somewhere in the worst of us, if we could but get at it. There's a spark of good in Finlay."

"How can there be?" said Neal, angrily. "The man's a spy, an informer, a paid liar, a villain that takes gold and perjures himself."

"That's true, over true. And yet he wanted to save our lives to-day. I tell you the man's not all bad. There's something of the grace of G.o.d left in him after all."

Neal was not inclined to argue about the matter. He sat silent, watching star after star shine out of the moonless sky. After a long silence Hope spoke again.

"There are men among us who mean to take Finlay's life. I can't altogether blame them. He deserves to die. But Neal, lad, don't you have act or part in that. Remember the word,--'Vengeance is mine and I will repay, saith the Lord.' If there's a spark of good in him at all, who are we that we should cut him off from the chance of repentance? 'The bruised reed shall he not break; the smoking flax shall he not quench.'

Remember that, Neal."

From far down the side of the hill the sound of a woman's voice reached them faintly. It drew nearer.

"That's some slip of a la.s.sie from off the farms below us," said Hope.

"She's looking out for some cow that's strayed."

"She's singing," said Neal. "I catch the fall of the tune now and then."

"She's coming nearer. It can't be a cow she's seeking. No beast would stray that far up amongst the heather and the stones."

The voice came more and more clearly. The words of the song reached them--

"I would I were in Ballinderry, I would I were in Aghalee, I would I were in bonny Ram's Island Sitting under an ivy tree.

Ochone, ochone!"

"I know that song," said Neal.

"Everybody knows that song. There isn't a la.s.s in Antrim or Down but sings it."