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"I don't suppose I ever did," answered Neal, suppressed laughter making him shake. Upon a gray pine stump, beside the blaze, which he was feeding with a hemlock bough, sat a battered-looking yet lively personage.
"Peg," said Neal, "Peg Macllrea, don't you be cross with me." "I would I were in Ballinderry," she began again. "Peg," said Neal, "I've finished my tea, and I wish you'd turn round. Please do, please." She turned to him at last with a broad smile on her face. "Is that the way you wheedled the poor lassie out of the kiss? But there now, I'll no say a word more about her if it makes you sore.
He felt that this man had argued out the whole matter with himself and thought deeply and prayed earnestly and had made up his mind. "I do not think that we are sure to win, Neal, but I hope that our fighting will enable those coming after us to obtain by other means the liberty and security which will surely be withheld from them unless we fight.
My uncle's sense of honor would not let him withhold anything from the man seeking her for his wife. The pain soon passed by, when he was told that she had that very day refused her cousin, and betrayed almost resentment at his offer. Edward Neal had not a sufficiently subtle nature, nor acquaintance enough with psychological phenomena to be disturbed by any fears for the future.
Neal often, moved by a secret chivalry, would insist upon bringing her in to their counsels; Manisty immediately became unmanageable, silent, and embarrassed. And how characteristic and significant was that embarrassment of his! It was as though he had a grievance against her; which however he could neither formulate for himself nor express to her.
Neal took his place beside a boy with bright red hair and a pleasant smiling face, who handed him a musket and a pouch of cartridges. "Them's yours, Neal Ward. Jemmy Hope bid me bring them for you." "But what are you to do?" said Neal. "You have no musket for yourself." "Faith I couldn't use it if I had. I never shot off one of them guns in my life. I'd be as like to hit myself as any one.
"I felt I must tell you," resumed Mr. Neal at length, "because I saw him again last night." His friend looked quickly at the little clerk, who gazed away among the trees, his eyes luminous. "I saw him in the Pennsylvania subway station, and I followed him out. There was no doubt about it: I saw his face. He went down Eighth Avenue, and I saw him turn in at a door. I wasn't far behind him.
Neal's friend became more and more sympathetic toward the quest. One afternoon Mr. Neal detained the chief clerk as he was leaving the office after work. The little clerk's eyes were very serious, and his voice was low as he said: "John, I know that I am going to find him very soon. I know it." "How do you know it?" asked the chief clerk. "Something well psychic?" "Oh, no. It's not mysterious.
"Keep the boat off, Neal, and take your shot if you get a chance." He shouted "Hello-lo-oh." The rocky sides and roof of the cave echoed back his cry a hundred times. Again he shouted, and again, until shouts and echoes meeting clashed with each other, and it seemed as if the tremendous laughter of gleeful giants mocked the solemn booming of the sea.
He could not but notice that there was an air of anxious excitement in the demeanour of the citizens who passed him in the street. They were all hurrying one way, making from one direction or another for the side street whose entrance faced the church. Neal accosted one or two, but received either no answer or words uttered so hurriedly that he could not catch their import.
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