He came forward and addressed Mr. Hinde. “It would be better,” he said, “if you’d march the police off out of this and let them take the band instruments along with them, for if they don’t the drums will surely be broke and the rest of the things twisted up so as nobody’ll ever be able to blow a tune on them again, which would be a pity and a great loss to all parties concerned.”
“I’ll take the police away if you like,” said Mr. Hinde, “but I’m hanged if I go on carting all those instruments about the country. I found them on the side of the road where you left them, and now that I’ve given them back to you I’ll take no further responsibility in the matter.”
The two sets of bandsmen were facing each other on the road. The instruments were divided between them. They were uttering the most bloodthirsty threats, and it was plain that in a minute or two there would be a scrimmage.
“Jimmy,” said O’Farrelly, “if the boys get to fighting——”
“I don’t know,” said Jimmy gloomily, “where the money’s to come from to buy new drums.”
“It might be better,” said O’Farrelly, “if we was to go home and leave the instruments back safe where they came from before worse comes of it.”
Ten minutes later the instruments were safely packed again into the cart. One of the Loyal True-Blue Invincibles led the horse. A Wolfe Tone Republican sat in the cart and held the reins. Jimmy McLoughlin and Cornelius O’Farrelly walked together. It was plain to everyone that hostilities were suspended for the day.
“I’m thinking,” said Jimmy, “that ye didn’t hold your demonstration after all. I hope this’ll be a lesson to you not to be trying anything of the sort for the future.”
“For all your fine talk,” said O’Farrelly, “you didn’t stop us. And why not? Because you weren’t fit to do it.”
“We could have done it,” said Jimmy, “and we would. But what’s the use of talking? So long as no demonstration was held we’re satisfied.”