sharp young
fellow."

"That won't suit you, Dan," said the Colonel. "You and your friends will
have to be a bit careful before you get up another rebellion."

"It may not suit me," said Dan, "but there's others it won't suit
either. Didn't I see the sergeant taking the number of your motor,
Colonel, and would he be doing the like of that if the new D.I. hadn't
told him?"

The Colonel laughed. As commander of a battalion of the Ulster Volunteer
Force, he was fully prepared to meet Dan Gallaher on the field of
battle--Dan leading the National Volunteers. He looked forward with
something like pleasure to the final settlement of the Home Rule
question by the ordeal of battle. In the meanwhile he and Dan Gallaher
by no means hated each other, and were occasionally in full sympathy
when the police or some ridiculous Government department made trouble by
fussy activity.

Mr. Robinson, the auctioneer, drove up in his dogcart. He touched his
hat to Colonel Eden, gave an order to his clerk and crossed the yard
briskly. He twisted the cigarette he smoked into the corner of his mouth
with deft movements of his lips, waved his hand to various acquaintances
and looked round him with quick, cheerful glances. No man in the country
was quicker to appreciate the financial worth of a crowd. He knew before
a single bid was made whether people were in a mood to spend lavishly.
He found himself very well satisfied with the prospect of this
particular auction. The stuff he had to sell, indoors and out, was good.
The farmers were enjoying a prosperous season. They had money in their
pockets which they would certainly want to spend. Mr. Robinson had
visions of a percentage, his share of the proceeds, running into three
figures.

He began work in a corner of the yard with a cross-cut saw. The bidding
rose merrily to a point slightly higher than the cost of a similar saw
new in a shop. At 23/6 Mr. Robinson knocked it down to a purchaser who
seemed well satisfied. A number of small articles, scythes, barrows,
spades, were sold rapidly, Mr. Robinson moving round the yard from
outhouse to outhouse, surrounded by an eager crowd which pressed on him.
His progress was not unlike that of a queen bee at swarming time. He
made--as she makes--short flights, and always at the end of them found
himself in the centre of a cluster of followers.

At about half-past twelve Mr. Robinson reached his most important lot.
He lit a fresh cigarette--his eighth-