“That was one motive, sir, but the least.  I beg you to remember the awkwardness of my position, as a king’s officer, in the midst of enemies.”

“The devil!  I say, parson, this exceeds heresy and schism!  Do you call lodging in your father’s house, major Willoughby, being in the midst of enemies?  This is rebellion against nature, and is worse than rebellion against the king.”

“My dear father, no one feels more secure with you, than I do; or, even, with Mr. Woods, here.  But, there are others besides you two, in this part of the world, and your very settlement may not be safe a week longer; probably would not be, if my presence in it were known.”

Both the listeners, now, fairly laid down their pipes, and the smoke began gradually to dissipate, as it might have been rising from a field of battle.  One looked at the other, in wonder, and, then, both looked at the major, in curiosity.

“What is the meaning of all this, my son?” asked the captain, gravely.  “Has anything new occurred to complicate the old causes of quarrel?”

“Blood has, at length, been drawn, sir; open rebellion has commenced!”

“This is a serious matter, indeed, if it be really so.  But do you not exaggerate the consequences of some fresh indiscretion of the soldiery, in firing on the people?  Remember, in the other affair, even the colonial authorities justified the officers.”

“This is a very different matter, sir.  Blood has not been drawn in a riot, but in a battle.”

“Battle!  You amaze me, sir!  That is indeed a serious matter, and may lead to most serious consequences!”

“The Lord preserve us from evil times,” ejaculated the chaplain, “and lead us, poor, dependent creatures that we are, into the paths of peace and quietness!  Without his grace, we are the blind leading the blind.”

“Do you mean, major Willoughby, that armed and disciplined bodies have met in actual conflict?”

“Perhaps not literally so, my dear father; but the minute-men of Massachusetts, and His Majesty’s forces, have met and fought.  This I know, full well; for my own regiment was in the field, and, I hope it is unnecessary to add, that its second officer was not absent.”

“Of course these minute-men—­rabble would be the better word—­could not stand before you?” said the captain, compressing his lips, under a strong impulse of military pride.

Major Willoughby coloured, and, to own the truth, at that moment he wished the Rev. Mr. Woods, if not literally at the devil, at least safe and sound in another room; anywhere, so it were out of ear-shot of the answer.

“Why, sir,” he said, hesitating, not to say stammering, notwithstanding a prodigious effort to seem philosophical and calm—­“To own the truth, these minute-fellows are not quite as contemptible as we soldiers would be apt to think.  It was a stone-wall affair, and dodging work; and, so, you know, sir, drilled troops wouldn’t have the usual chance.  They pressed us pretty warmly on the retreat.”