can do nothing there. If they confiscate them in my absence, they
might do worse were I to go back and defy them. I believe my life is
worth something to our cause, and it would be only to waste it foolishly
if I returned to fight for a few indigo-vats and canefields."

"While you can remain here and fight for other people's hen-coops, eh?"

"No, sir; only to take up the common quarrel and stand for that liberty
which we inherited from those who now seek to dispossess us."

"Quite an orator!" he observed, grimly. "The Ormonds were formerly more
ready with their swords than with their tongues."

"I trust I shall not fail to sustain their traditions," I said,
controlling my anger with a desperate effort.

He burst out into a hollow laugh.

"There you go, red as a turkey-cock and madder than a singed tree-cat!
George, can't you let me plague you in comfort! Dammy, it's undutiful!
For pity's sake! let me sneer--let me gibe and jeer if it eases me."

I glared at him, half inclined to laugh.

"Curse it!" he said, wrathfully, "I'm serious. You don't know how
serious I am. It's no laughing matter, George. I must do something to
ease me!" He burst out into a roar, swearing in volleys.

"D' ye think I wish to appear contemptible?" he shouted. "D' ye think I
like to sit here like an old wife, scolding in one breath and preaching
thrift in the next? A weak-kneed, chicken-livered, white-bellied old
bullfrog that squeaks and jumps, plunk! into the puddle when a footstep
falls in the grass! Am I not a patroon? Am I not Dutch? Granted I'm fat
and slow and a glutton, and lazy as a wolverine. I can fight like one,
too! Don't make any mistake there, George!"

His broad face flushed crimson, his little, green eyes snapped fire.

"D' ye think I don't love a fight as well as my neighbor? D' ye think
I've a stomach for insults and flouts and winks and nudges? Have I a
liver to sit doing sums on my thumbs when these impudent British are
kicking my people out of their own doors? Am I of a kidney to smile and
bow, and swallow and digest the orders of Tory swashbucklers, who lay
down a rule of conduct for men who should be framing rules of common
decency for them? D' ye think I'm a snail or a potato or an empty pair
o' breeches? Damnation!"

Rage convulsed him. He recovered his self-command slowly, smashing his
pipe in the interval; and I, astonished beyond measure, waited for the
explanation which he appeared to be disposed to give.