cred rite--"for the lot.
Not bad, I want to say. Isn't he good for all day, this one?"

The old man nodded, then turned towards the bridge. "The
gun-shots--what?" he asked, setting forward at a walk which taxed the
rawbone's stride.

"An invite--come to the wedding; that's all. Only it's a funeral this
time, and, if something good doesn't happen, there'll be more than one
funeral on the Sagalac to-morrow. I've had my try, but I dunno how it'll
come out. He's not a man of much dictionary is the Monseenoor."

"The Monseigneur Lourde? What does he say?"

"He says what we all say, that he is sorry. 'But why have the Orange
funeral while things are as they are?' he says, and he asks for the red
flag not to be shook in the face of the bull."

"That is not the talk of a fool, as most priests are," growled the
other.

"Sure. But it wants a real wind-warbler to make them see it in Lebanon.
They've got the needle. They'll pray to-day with the taste of blood in
their mouths. It's gone too far. Only a miracle can keep things right.
The Mayor has wired for the mounted police--our own battalion of militia
wouldn't serve, and there'd be no use ordering them out--but the Riders
can't get here in time. The train's due the very time the funeral's to
start, but that train's always late, though they say the ingine-driver
is an Orangeman! And the funeral will start at the time fixed, or I
don't know the boys that belong to the lodge. So it's up to We, Us & Co.
to see the thing through, or go bust. It don't suit me. It wouldn't have
been like this, if it hadn't been for what happened to the Chief last
night. There's no holding the boys in. One thing's sure, the Gipsy that
give Ingolby away has got to lie low if he hasn't got away, or there'll
be one less of his tribe to eat the juicy hedgehog. Yes, sir-ee!"

To the last words of Jowett the Ry seemed to pay no attention, though
his lips shut tight and a menacing look came into his eyes. They were
now upon the bridge, and could see what was forward on both sides of the
Sagalac. There was unusual bustle and activity in the streets and on the
river-bank of both towns. It was noticeable also that though the mills
were running in Manitou, there were fewer chimneys smoking, and far
more men in the streets than usual. Tied up to the Manitou shore were
a half-dozen cribs or rafts of timber which should be floating eastward
down the Sagalac.

"If the Monseenoor can't, or don't, step in, we're