"All in good time; all in good time," said Father Donovan; "I'll go a bit farther along the road with you and see how your men march. They would fight better and better behind a hedge than in the open, I'm thinking."
"They'll not have to fight in the open, Father," said I, "but they'll be comfortably housed if we get there in time. Now, Peel, I make you captain of the men, as you've got them together, and so, Forward, my lads."
They struck out along the road, walking a dozen different kinds of steps, although there were only nine of them; some with the swords over their shoulders, some using them like walking-sticks, till I told them to be more careful of the points; but they walked rapidly and got over the ground, for the clank of the five guineas that was in each man's pocket played the right kind of march for them.
"Listen to reason, O'Ruddy, and even now turn back," said Father Donovan.
"I'll not turn back now," said I, "and, sure, you can't expect it of me. You're an obstinate man yourself, if I must say so, Father."
"It's a foolhardy exploit," he continued, frowning. "There's prison at the end of it for some one," he murmured.
"No, it's the House of Brede, Father, that's at the end of it."
"Supposing the Earl of Westport brings a thousand men against you,—what are you going to do?"
"Give them the finest fight they have ever seen in this part of England."
In spite of himself I saw a sparkle in Father Donovan's eye. The nationality of him was getting the better of his profession.