against persecution, of conflict with the
dragoons of Claverhouse. All these, whose grandfathers had stood in arms
for widely different causes, marched together on Antrim, an embodiment
of Wolfe Tone's dream of a united Ireland. Their flags were green,
vividly symbolic of the blending of the Protestant orange with the
ancient Irish blue. M'Cracken, with such troops behind him, might march
hopefully, even though he knew that the cavalry, infantry, and artillery
were hurrying against him along the banks of the Six Mile Water, from
Blaris Camp and Carrickfergus.

James Hope greeted Neal warmly.

"There is a musket for you," he said, "and your own share of the
cartridges you helped to save. There's a lad here, a slip of a boy, who
is carrying them for you."

He looked round and pointed out the boy to Neal.

"There he is; you may march in the ranks along with him."

Neal took his place beside a boy with bright red hair and a pleasant
smiling face, who handed him a musket and a pouch of cartridges.

"Them's yours, Neal Ward. Jemmy Hope bid me bring them for you."

"But what are you to do?" said Neal. "You have no musket for yourself."

"Faith I couldn't use it if I had. I never shot off one of them guns
in my life. I'd be as like to hit myself as any one. I'll just go along
with you, I have a sword, and I'll be able to use that if I get the
chance."

Neal looked at the lad beside him, noted his smooth face and sparkling
eyes.

"You must be very young," he said, "too young for this work."

"I might be older than you now, young as I look. But is thon Mr. Matier
coming till us? Go you and talk to him if you want. I won't have him
here, marching along with me."

At about half-past one Hope halted his musketeers. He was in sight of
Antrim, and he waited for orders. It was clear that the town was held
by English troops. Their red coats were visible in the main street,
but, without that, the houses which burnt here and there gave sufficient
evidence of the presence of a ravishing army.

M'Cracken made a speech to his men--an eloquent speech. Now-a-days
we are inclined to look with some contempt on men who make eloquent
speeches. We are so accustomed to the perpetual flow of our Sunday
oratory that we have come to think of speeches as mere preliminaries
to copious draughts of porter in public-houses--a sort of grace before
drink, to which no sensible man attaches any particular importance.
But the orators of M'Cracken