little back from the road.

"It was there," he said, "that William Orr lived. His widow and weans
are there now. You know the story, Neal?"

"I know it; yes, I know the outlines of it. Do you tell it to me again."

Hope repeated the story, which in those days hardly needed telling among
the Antrim peasants, of the man whose name had become a watchword; so
that men, seeking to revive failing enthusiasms, said to each
other--"Remember Orr." It was a pitiful tale; a man marked down as
odious by a powerful faction, spied upon, informed against, tried by
prejudiced judges, condemned on the word of false witnesses, hanged. The
same tale might have been told of many another then, but William Orr
came first on the list of such martyrs, and even now his name is not
wholly forgotten.

They reached Donegore. Moylin's house--a comfortable, two-storeyed
building, built of large blocks of stone--stood on the side of the steep
hill, near the old church and the graveyard. Hope, bidding Neal wait for
him on the roadside, entered the house. In about a quarter of an hour he
returned.

"It is as I thought," he said. "Finlay left early this morning after
arranging for a meeting of the United Irishmen here next week. Well,
there is no more to be done for the present. I have warned Moylin to be
careful. Come and let me show you the ancient fort from which the parish
takes its name and the view from it."

"This," said Hope, when they stood at last on the top of the great rath,
"is my Pisgah. From this I have looked many a time over the land. See,
west, south, east of you, how it spreads, rich, beautiful, from the
shores of Lough Neagh to the shores of Belfast Lough and the sea of
Moyle. Here great men, warriors of the past, had their hill-top burial,
and it may be fixed their fortress home. From this they looked over the
country which they took and held by strength of arm and courage of soul.
Are we a meaner race, men of a poorer spirit? Shall we not enter in and
possess the land in our turn? All over the world the voice of liberty
is heard now, clear and strong, bidding the people assert themselves and
claim right and justice. Are our ears alone deaf to the high call? Has
the pursuit of riches dulled our souls? Is the clink of gold and silver
so loud in our ears that we can hear nothing else?"

They descended the grassy sides of the old fort, walked down the steep
lane from Moylin's house, and joined the road again. Turning to the
ri