ou ever see the Green Loaney Scutching Mill?" he said.

I had never seen any scutching mill. I have only a vague idea of what
a scutching mill is.

"It'll not be more than twenty miles from this," said Cahoon. "And in
my car we'll do it and be back for dinner."

I did not particularly want to spend the rest of the afternoon rushing
about the country in Cahoon's motor car. I preferred to stay quietly
on the Castle Affey lawn and talk about Home Rule.

"But about the working-man," I said, "and the prospect of his
fighting--"

"You'll be better able to talk about that," said Cahoon, "when you've
seen the man I'm going to take you to. Seeing's believing."

I was, of course, quite willing to go with Cahoon if he would really
show me a citizen soldier in a scutching mill. We got out the motor
car and started.

"He's a man by the name of McConkey," said Cahoon.

"A good name," I said. "One expects something from a McConkey."

Cahoon did not say anything for about ten minutes. Then he went on--

"McConkey is foreman in the mill."

"The scutching mill?" I asked.

It was, of course, the scutching mill. I only asked the question in
order to keep up the conversation. The long silences were
embarrassing. Cahoon did not answer me. At the end of another quarter
of an hour of furious driving he gave me a little further information
about McConkey.

"He neither drinks nor smokes."

This led me to think that he might be some relation to my friend
Crossan, possibly a cousin.

"I happen to know," said Cahoon a little later, "that he has upwards
of L500 saved."

Undoubtedly McConkey and Crossan are close relations, brothers-in-law
perhaps.

We reached the Green Loaney Scutching Mill at about half-past five
o'clock. Cahoon, who seemed to know all about the establishment, led
me through some very dusty purlieus. McConkey, when we came upon him,
did not seem particularly pleased to see Cahoon. He looked at me with
suspicious malignity.

"There's a gentleman here," said Cahoon, "who wants to know whether
you mean to fight rather than submit to Home Rule."

"Aye," said McConkey, "I do."

Then he looked me square in the face without winking. Cahoon did the
same thing exactly. Neither of them spoke. It was clearly my turn to
say something; but with four hard grey eyes piercing my skin I found
it difficult to think of a remark. In the end I said:

"Really?"

They both continued to stare at me. Then McConkey broke the si