The officer brought his fist down on the table with a sound which brought all the soldiers about the place to attention, and made the prisoners start.
“Speak out, sir, or you shall swing on that hook on the wall in two minutes.”
“Arrah, colonel dear, sure I’m telling you. There’s forty-eight sworn men, and that’s the truth.”
“You are the secretary,” said the magistrate. “Give me a list of their names.”
“’Deed, sir, my memory is not what it was, and the book—”
“Here ’tis, captain,” said a soldier, advancing with a salute, and holding out a small copy-book; “it was found on him.”
“That will do,” said the magistrate, putting it down without examining it. “Who is your captain or leader?”
“Who’s the captain?” repeated the prisoner vaguely.
“You hear what I say,” replied the magistrate. “Answer the question at once!”
“The captain? Sure, sir, it’s Tim Gallagher, own brother to the man who’s standing there.”