Mr. Hinde turned and waited for them.
“I’m going to hand them over to Cornelius O’Farrelly,” he said.
“You’re going to do nothing of the sort,” said Jimmy, “for they’re our drums, so they are.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Mr. Hinde, “all I know is that they’re the instruments which O’Farrelly’s band were playing when they marched out of the town. They left them on the side of the road, where my men found them.”
“What right had you to be touching them at all,” said Jimmy.
“Every right. O’Farrelly was complaining to me three days ago that one set of band instruments had been stolen from him. It’s my business to see that he doesn’t lose another set in the same way, even if he’s careless enough to leave them lying about on the side of the road.”
“Amn’t I telling you that they’re ours, not his?” said Jimmy.
“You’ll have to settle that with him.”
“Sure, if I settle that with him,” said Jimmy, “in the only way anything could be settled with a pack of rebels, the instruments will be broke into smithereens before we’re done.”
This seemed very likely. Jimmy McLoughlin’s bandsmen, armed with sticks and stones, were forming up on the road. The police had already handed over the largest drum to one of the leading Wolfe Tone Republicans. It was Cornelius O’Farrelly who made an attempt to save the situation.