's Neal Ward," said Donald. "It's my nephew. Sit you down, Neal."

No one else spoke, though all nodded a welcome to Neal, and room was
made for him at the table round which they sat. Aeneas Moylin rose and
fetched another chair from the next room. Neal noticed that all six men
were armed with swords and pistols. Donald Ward sat at the head of the
table, and had the air of presiding over the assembly. There was dead
silence in the room, save for the ticking of a clock which stood in a
dark corner out of reach of the rays of the lamp. No man looked at any
of his fellows. They stared fixedly at the ceil-ing, the table, or the
walls of the room. After about ten minutes, Felix Marier rose, crossed
the room, and peered at the face of the clock. He went to the door and
looked down the lane. Then, with a sharp in drawing of the breath, he
took his seat again. The movement roused Donald Ward. He fumbled in
his pocket and took out his tobacco box and pipe. He held up the box--a
round metal one--between his finger and thumb. Neal, watching, noticed
with surprise that his uncle's hand trembled. Donald held the box
without opening it for perhaps two minutes. Then, when he was satisfied
that his hand had become quite steady, he filled his pipe. He rose, took
a red peat from the hearth, and pressed it into the bowl of the pipe.
He did not sit down again, but stood with his back to the fire, smoking
slowly.

Aeneas Moylin spoke in a harsh, constrained voice.

"Would you like to drink while you wait? I have whisky in the house."

"No," said Donald.

No one else spoke. Several of the men passed their tongues over their
dry lips. They would have liked to drink. Their mouths craved for
moisture, their nerves for stimulant, but they did not dispute Donald
Ward's emphatic refusal of the offer.

THE NORTHERN IRON. 175

Felix Matier rose again. Again he peered at the clock, again he
opened the door and looked down the lane. This time he turned almost
immediately, and said in a whisper--

"There's a man coming up the lane, a single rider. I hear the tramp of
his horse."

He hurried back to his seat, as if he were afraid of being found apart
from his comrades, as if he expected to discover safety in being just as
they were. Donald Ward took his seat at the head of the table. His pipe
was still between his teeth, but he ceased to puff at it. It went out.
The noise of the approaching horse was plainly audible in the room.
Felix Matier