AS the band-master called out each name, a young lad, resplendent in new black jacket and scarlet trousers, stepped forward to the make-shift platform and reached up to receive his red cap from the stooped but still massive figure of Democratic Unionist leader Ian Paisley.

When the first of two young girls came forward, Mr Paisley looked around the lads and joked: ''How do you survive in this lot?'' The good-humoured audience laughed. When the band-master, who was rather short, had to adjust the microphone height, Mr Paisley quipped: ''You must have missed your orange juice when you were a lad.''

The band-master replied: ''Aye, I must have got green juice.''

But the easy exchange of banter and the relaxed mood of the small crowd which filled the narrow country lane outside Drumderg Orange Hall did not disguise the serious purpose of this meeting. Mr Paisley had not come just to dedicate new uniforms for a flute band. He was also taking the No campaign to the grass roots.

The Protestants of South Armagh do not need reminding of their precarious position. Unionists may be the majority in Northern Ireland but down here, close to the border, they are the minority.

At the end of the dedication ceremony, the flute band marched half a mile to another Orange Hall on the edge of Keady and then marched back again. As an onlooker explained, with dry under-statement: ''It would not be wise to march into Keady.''

In a speech which belied his 72 years, Mr Paisley gave his audience what they wanted. With economy, he dissected the hated settlement and flailed those unionists who had betrayed their people. Ulster Unionist leader David Trimble said the Union was safe but this deal repealed the Government of Ireland Act, ''the rock on which Ulster was built''.

Mr Trimble said Dublin was giving up its territorial claim to Ulster. ''Utter nonsense. It is expanding those claims. The Irish Republic used to claim our land. Now they are claiming us. They are going to say that you and me, we are all Irish citizens. Do you want to be Irish citizens?''

The crowd snorted its response. Mr Trimble said that voting for this agreement was a vote for peace. ''But you do not get peace by giving murderers a place in your government.''

This was Mr Paisley doing what he does best. In front of journalists and TV cameras, he often appears tetchy and ill-tempered. He has little time for those who do not understand his beliefs and such utter conviction in them that he readily assumes that those who question or doubt him are motivated by malice.

For this reason, Mr Paisley's partner in the No campaign, the articulate Robert McCartney, has taken the lead in formal debates.

But standing on a farm trailer in a country lane, leading a small crowd of beleaguered Protestants in singing Abide With Me and God Our Help in Ages Past, Paisley is in his element. These are his people. They know the words of the hymns. When the unacceptable terms of the settlement document are presented in language loaded with biblical phrases they appreciate the message.

This is not politics. This is ethnic survival. This is not one political party against another. This is a bible-believing Protestant truth standing against the evils of terrorism and Romanism. These fields, where Mr Paisley's father, a fundamentalist Baptist preacher, held his first mission, this is the frontier between good and evil.

As Mr Paisley enjoyed reminding his audience: ''These people who say you must surrender have written me off before.''

When in 1969 he took on the then Prime Minister Terence O'Neill, he was dismissed as an irrelevance. At every crucial juncture in the 30 years since, outsiders have expected the modernisers to defeat the fundamentalist preacher but every time Mr Paisley has defied the predictions of his demise. The liberals have come and gone but Mr Paisley remains.

In the euphoria which followed the Good Friday settlement, Mr Paisley was again dismissed. He was old, he was in poor health, he could no longer judge the mood of the unionist voters. But like the Phoenix and the fire, Mr Paisley has been rejuvenated by crisis and his campaign is rolling. With the opinion polls showing one third of Protestants in favour of the settlement, one third opposed and one third as yet undecided, it looks like the grand old man of Ulster unionism may once again prove his political obituary premature.

The dedication ceremony concluded, Mr Paisley signed copies of a pamphlet called Its Right to Say No and handed out little heart-shaped Union Jack badges before climbing into the heavily- armoured saloon car that would drive him north, back to Belfast.

The band members returned from their short but symbolic march to the outskirts of a town that did not want them.

The crowd, fortified in their faith, moved into the tiny hall for their sandwiches and tea. The sun set on 100 Ulster Protestants who had been reminded why they would be voting No.

At ease on the trail: the Rev Ian Paisley campaigning for the No vote in Ballyclare, north of Belfast. Picture: MAX NASH/AP