re, which we may as well take with us. There is
a green jacket which some of our young fellows may like to wear, and a
flag; we ought to have a flag to fight under."

They turned to leave the house. Neal cast one glance behind him and saw
Finlay lying curled up on the ground, his face covered with his hands,
as if he were already trying to shut away from his eyes the sight of
Hope's body dangling from a lamp iron.

Reaching the street, Hope stood for a moment and glanced up and down
it. A party of soldiers was marching towards them. Hope looked at them
carefully.

"These are not the men whom the woman warned us of. Major Barber, if he
were coming here from High Street, would be marching the opposite way.
This is some company of yeomen."

A band played at the head of the approaching company, and the men
stepped out briskly to the tune of "Croppies Lie Down." Their uniforms
were gay, their arms and accoutrements in good order, the officer in
command was well mounted; a crowd of idle young men and some women were
walking beside and behind the soldiers, attracted by the music and the
unusually smart appearance of the men.

"I know these," said Hope, "they are the County Down Yeomanry. They
have just marched in, and are no doubt going to report themselves. Come,
Neal, this is our chance."

He joined the crowd which walked with the soldiers. Neal followed him
closely. Hope, as if feeling the weight of the boxes he carried, walked
slowly until he found himself in that part of the crowd which followed
the regiment. Then, pushing forward briskly, he and Neal came close
behind the last soldiers. The ranks were not well kept, nor the march
orderly. Hope made his way forward until he and Neal were walking
amongst the yeomen. As they swung out of the street they were met by
another body of troops.

"These are regulars," whispered Hope, "and Major Barber is in command of
them. That is he."

The two bodies of troops halted. There was a brief conversation between
their commanding officers. Then an order was given. The yeomen, their
band playing briskly again, marched on. Hope and Neal, now in the very
middle of the ranks, marched with them. The royal troops presented arms
as they passed. Major Barber watched them critically.

"It's a pity these volunteers won't learn their drill," he said to a
young officer beside him. "Look at that for marching. The ranks are as
ragged as the shirt of the fellow we've just been flogging; bu