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Felix Matier and James Bigger will do likewise. Moylin, you and your two friends will march with the pikemen, whom I lead myself. Some of the men have arms for you." The party had fallen somewhat to the rear of the column during this conversation with M'Cracken. Neal and his two companions hurried forward at once in order to reach the division of musketeers which was in the van.
Two others followed, holding Finlay, gagged and bound, by the arms. Donald Ward, his sword drawn, brought up the rear. They moved like shadows, silent as the prowling body-snatchers of whom Donald had spoken. In front of them, a dark mass in the June twilight, stood the church, and round it rows and rows of gravestones. Moylin crossed the stile. Finlay sank helplessly in a heap in front of it.
At breakfast the next morning James Hope spoke again about Finlay. "The man went home last night with Aeneas Moylin. I think that I ought to go to Donegore to-day and tell Aeneas of our suspicions. I had intended to go straight to Templepatrick, and I might have had your company so far, but it will certainly be better for me to go round by Donegore." Donald Ward nodded.
There had risen in him a faint gleam of hope. "You are charged," said Donald again, "with having provided the dragoons who rioted in Belfast last week with information which led them to attack and wreck the houses of those who are in sympathy with the society." "I deny it. I was not in Belfast that day. I was here in Donegore with Aeneas Moylin." "You were here the day before," said Moylin.
The horsemen passed again, but this time the risk of discovery was less. The thatch of Moylin's house had almost burned itself out. Only a red glow remained, casting little shadow, lighting the land dimly. They crossed the field in safety and reached a grove of trees. "We're right now," said Moylin. "We can take it easy from this on."
It was seven o'clock when Neal reached Aeneas Moylin's house, after climbing the steep lane that led to Donegore Hill. He found six men seated in the kitchen Donald Ward, Felix Matier, James Bigger, Moylin, and two others whom he did not know. "It's Neal Ward," said Donald. "It's my nephew. Sit you down, Neal."
"Bind his hands; gag him; bring a lantern and means of lighting it; bring the key of the vault; leave the light burning in this room. Come." The orders were quickly obeyed. It was evident that every man had his part assigned to him beforehand, and was ready to perform it. There was no confusion, and no talking. Aeneas Moylin led the way.
"Who were the two men that were with you just now?" "The one of them," said Hope, "was Aeneas Moylin, a Catholic, and a friend of Charlie Teeling. He's a man that has done much to bring the Defender boys from County Down and Armagh into the society. He has a good farm of land near by Donegore." "And the other?" "The other you ought to know, Neal Ward. He's from Dunseveric.
Then, when he was satisfied that his hand had become quite steady, he filled his pipe. He rose, took a red peat from the hearth, and pressed it into the bowl of the pipe. He did not sit down again, but stood with his back to the fire, smoking slowly. Aeneas Moylin spoke in a harsh, constrained voice. "Would you like to drink while you wait? I have whisky in the house." "No," said Donald.
About three in the morning, when the east was beginning to grow bright with the coming dawn, they reached a substantial farmhouse and climbed into the haggard. "We're within twenty yards of the main road now," said Moylin, "about a mile and a half outside the town of Antrim. We can lie here till morning. It's a safe place. The man that owns it won't betray us if he does find us here."
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