“I can tell you,” said Neal. “James Finlay. And James Finlay had a grudge against me. The others whom he denounced were United Irishmen, perhaps, I was not. Why was I marked down, unless it was out of private revenge? And there is nobody, nobody in the world, I believe, who has cause to wish for vengeance on me but only James Finlay.” “I cannot believe it of him,” said Micah. “He came to me himself and asked to be sworn. He was a member of the committee.” “If you ask me,” said Donald, “I think the case looks pretty black against James Finlay. I think, if things are to go on as they ought to, it will be better to cut the throat of James Finlay. I don’t know him myself. Perhaps you do, Neal.” “Yes,” said Neal, “I know him.” “And he is in Belfast,” said Donald. “Now, what was his reason for going to Belfast?” “He went to obtain employment there,” said Micah. “He took letters from me to some of our leaders. He went as my agent, properly accredited. My God! If he is a traitor!” “I think, Neal,” said Donald, slowly, “that you and I will take a little trip to Belfast. I should like to see Belfast. They tell me it’s a rising town. I should also very much like to see our friend, James Finlay. I suppose we shall be able to get horses to-morrow. Oh, yes, I’ve money to pay for them. I didn’t come over here with an empty purse. Anyway, I think Belfast would suit me better than this place. Your people, Micah, don’t seem very fond of fighting.” “You are wrong, brother. They will lay down their lives right willingly when the hour comes.” Donald shrugged his shoulders. “Their meeting-house has been sacked, their minister has been insulted, three of their members are to be arrested, and they haven’t offered to strike a blow. If they had the courage of doe rabbits they’d have chopped up those yeomen into little bits and then scattered them for dung over the fields. I reckon that unless the Belfast people are better than these men of yours I’d be better back in the States. We knew how to fight for our liberty there.” “You don’t understand, Donald. Believe me, you do not understand. We must wait for orders before we strike.” “Oh, orders. Waiting for orders. I know the meaning of that. It means waiting till the English have picked off your leaders one by one. I know, I know.” Donald knocked the ashes out of his pipe, filled it, and lit it again, and puffed slowly. Micah sat at the table, his head resting in his hands. Neal sat down and waited. There was silence in the room for a long time. Donald’s pipe was smoked out and lit again before he spoke. Then he said-- “I’m sorry, brother, that I spoke as I did. I don’t doubt but that your men are brave enough. They would have fought if they had known what was going on.”