made his
report. He and his men had been patrolling the lane as they had been
ordered. They had heard a man running fast towards them, had stopped
him, and arrested him.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" asked Captain Twinely.

Neal made no answer. The sergeant peered closely at his face.

"I think I know the man, sir. He's the young fellow that was with the
women at the meetinghouse in the north. The man the old lord made us
loose when we had him. What do you say, Tarn?"

"You're right as hell," said the trooper who stood by Neal. "I'd know
the young cub in a thousand."

Captain Twinely rose, tools the lamp from the hook where it hung, held
it close to Neat's face, and looked at him.

"I believe you're right," he said. "Now, young man, we know who you are;
You're Neal Ward." He drew a paper from his pocket and looked it over.
"Yes, that's the name, 'Neal Ward, son of the Reverend Micah Ward,
Presbyterian minister of Dunseveric. A young man, about six foot high,
well built, fair hair, grey eyes, active, strong.' Yes, the description
fits all right. Now, Mr. Neal Ward, since I've answered my first
question myself, perhaps you'll be so good as to answer my second for
me. Where are your fellow-rebels?"

Neal was silent.

"Come now, that won't do. We know there's a meeting of United Irishmen
here to-night. We know that the leaders, M'Cracken, Monro, Hope, and the
rest are somewhere about. Where are they?"

"I don't know," said Neal, "and if I did I wouldn't tell you."

The sergeant struck him sharply across the mouth with the back of his
hand.

"Take that for your insolence. I'll learn ye to say 'sir' when ye
speak to a gentleman."

"Answer my question," said Captain Twinely, "or, by God, I'll make you."

"Try him with half hanging," said the other officer, speaking for the
first time. "I've known a tongue wag freely enough after it's been
sticking black out of a man's mouth for a couple of minutes."

"Too risky, Jack. The last fellow you half hanged wouldn't come to life
again; turned out to be whole hanged, by gad." He laughed. "There's
fifty pounds on the head of this young cock, and it's ten to one but the
rascally Government would back out of their promise if we brought
them nothing but a damned corpse. Besides, I want the information. The
vermin's nest must be somewhere round. I want to get the lot of them.
No, no; there's more ways of making a croppy speak than half hanging
him. We'll try