"I suppose," I said, "that you'll have to give up this meeting to-morrow." "I don't think so," said Conroy. "I've just been talking to Sir Samuel Clithering," I said, "and he thinks there'll be bloodshed if you don't." "I reckon he's right there. We're kind of out for that, aren't we?" "It won't be so pleasant," I said, "when it's your blood that's shed. I don't mean yours personally, I mean your friends." "The other side will do some of the bleeding," said Conroy. "Still," I said, "in the end they'll win." "I wouldn't bet too heavy on that," said Conroy. "You don't mean to say that you think that a handful of north of Ireland farmers and mechanics can stand up against the British Empire?" "It's fixed in my mind," said Conroy, "that the British lion will get his tail twisted a bit before he's through with this business. I don't say that he won't make good in the end. Nobody but God Almighty can tell this minute whether he will or not; but he'll be considerable less frisky when he's finished than he is to-day." "But," I said, "even supposing you clear the streets of the soldiers and police to-morrow--I do not see how you can; but if you do the Government will simply anchor a battleship off Carrickfergus and shell the whole town into a heap of ruins." "I'm calculating on their trying that," said Conroy. That was all I could get out of Conroy. I left him, feeling uneasily that his vote would certainly go against Clithering's compromise. His confidence in the fighting powers of the raw men whom Bob and others had taken to church with them struck me as absurd. His cool assumption of power to deal with the British fleet was arrogance run mad. On my way back to my hotel I ran into a congregation which had just got out of some church or other. In the first rank--they were marching in very fair order--was Crossan. He saluted me and stopped. "I'm thinking," he said, "that you won't have seen them." He pointed to a small group of men who were bringing up the rear of the congregation's march. They were dragging a heavy object along with two large ropes. I recognized the leader of them at once. He was Cahoon's foreman friend, McConkey. I was pleased to find that he recognized me. "I have her safe," he said. "Would you like to take a look at her?" I did. She was a machine gun of a kind quite unknown to me; but her appearance was very murderous. McConkey led me up to her. He stroked her black side lovingly and patted her in various places. "I was trying her yesterday," he said, "down on the slob land under the Shore Road. Man o' man, but she shoots bonny!" I had no doubt of it. She was likely to be accountable for a good deal of bloodshed if there was any street fighting next day. The record of her bag would, I should think, haunt Sir Samuel Clithering for the rest of his life. "I've a matter of five thousand cartridges," said McConkey in a hoarse whisper, "and there's another five thousand ordered." CHAPTER XIX