t of his pipe, filled it, and lit it again,
and puffed slowly. Micah sat at the table, his head resting in his
hands. Neal sat down and waited. There was silence in the room for a
long time. Donald's pipe was smoked out and lit again before he spoke.
Then he said--

"I'm sorry, brother, that I spoke as I did. I don't doubt but that your
men are brave enough. They would have fought if they had known what was
going on."

"No, no," said Micah. "You were right. I ought to have fought if there
were no one else. I ought to have died. I would to God that I had died
before our meeting-house was pillaged, before my people, the men who
trusted me, were taken captive. I was a coward. I am a coward."

"Then I am a coward, too," said Donald, "and no man ever called me that
before. But I'm not, and you're not. We were two unarmed men against
fifty. I'm fond enough of fighting, and I take on a job with long odds
against me, but not such long odds as that. Rouse yourself, brother.
Neal and I are going to Belfast. We shall want letters from you. We must
be accredited like Mr. James Finlay, whom we hope to meet. Stir yourself
now and write for us."

"I will, I will. Neal, there is no ink here. I remember that I used all
my ink yesterday. Neal, fetch me ink from the shelf beside the window."

In a few minutes Micah's pen was travelling slowly over the paper. Neal
could hear its spluttering and scratching. Suddenly, there was a noise
of loud knocking at the door of the house. Donald started and laid down
his pipe. Neal rose to his feet, and stood waiting for some order from
his father. Micah stopped writing, and turned in his chair. All trace of
nervousness and agitation had vanished from his face. His expression was
gentle and joyous. He smiled.

"They have come to take me also," he said. "I am right glad. I shall not
be indebted to the oppressor for my liberty. I shall be where a shepherd
ought to be--with the sheep whom the wolf attacks."

Again came the noise of knocking, heavy, authoritative, threatening.

"Be quick, my son, and open the door. Bid those who enter welcome."

Neal went to the door, and opened it. Lord Dunseveric stood outside, the
reins of his horse's bridle thrown over his arm, his riding whip in his
hand.

"I suppose your father is within, Neal. I want to speak to him. Will you
ask him if I may enter?"

"He bid me say that you were welcome," said Neal.

Lord Dunseveric stared at him in surprise. "How did