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"Hark!" said Moylin, "they're in the churchyard. I hear them stumbling about among the graves. We can't get back now, even if we want to. Follow me." Creeping along the side of the hedge, they crossed the field they were in, another, and another after that. They came upon a by-road. "We must cross this," said Moylin, "and I think there are soldiers nigh at hand."
The good people of Donegore have built in their churchyard a very strong vault with an iron door, of which Aeneas Moylin keeps the key. Here they lock up the bodies of their dead for some time before burying them until, in fact, the natural process of decay renders them unsuitable for dissection. This is their plan for defeating the resurrectioners. There is no corpse in the vault to-night.
"When I discovered that we'd left you behind," said Hope, "I made up my mind that you must have been shot down along with your uncle and the fine fellows who made a stand with him. Ah, Neal, we've lost many your uncle, Felix Marier, poor Moylin, and many another. One killed here, another there, but all of them in doing their duty. But we mustn't talk of these things, lad.
No one else spoke, though all nodded a welcome to Neal, and room was made for him at the table round which they sat. Aeneas Moylin rose and fetched another chair from the next room. Neal noticed that all six men were armed with swords and pistols. Donald Ward sat at the head of the table, and had the air of presiding over the assembly.
"Finlay left early this morning after arranging for a meeting of the United Irishmen here next week. Well, there is no more to be done for the present. I have warned Moylin to be careful. Come and let me show you the ancient fort from which the parish takes its name and the view from it." "This," said Hope, when they stood at last on the top of the great rath, "is my Pisgah.
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