no fear that we 're going to get into the courts, Father."
"Do you think he'll fight?" demanded the father suddenly, with a glint in his eyes that I have seen in my own father's when he was telling us of his battles in France.
"Fight? Why of course he'll fight, for he's as full of malice as an egg's full of meat; but nevertheless he's a sensible old curmudgeon, when the last word's said, and before he'll have it noised over England that his title to the land is disputed he'll give me what I want, although at first he'll try to master me."
"Can you depend on these men?"
"I think I can. They're old smugglers and pirates, most of them."
"I wonder who the Earl will bring against you?" said Father Donovan, speaking more to himself than to me. "Will it be farmers or regular soldiers?"
"I expect they will be from among his own tenantry; there's plenty of them, and they'll all have to do his bidding."
"But that does n't give a man courage in battle?"
"No, but he'll have good men to lead them, even if he brings them from London."
"I would n't like to see you attacked by real soldiers; but I think these men of yours will give a good account of themselves if there's only peasantry brought up against them. Sure, the peasantry in this country is not so warlike as in our own,"—and there was a touch of pride in the father's remark that went to my very heart.
After riding in silence for a while, meditating with
