were quiet, their denizens dining within.  At the blockhouse a guard was mounted—­doubtless a watchful and stanch lookout, but unconforming to military methods, for he sang, to speed the time, a metrical psalm of David’s; the awkward collocation of the words of this version would forever distort the royal poet’s meaning if he had no other vehicle of his inspiration.  There were long waits between the drowsy lines, and in the intervals certain callow voices, with the penetrating timbre of youth, came to Emsden’s ear.  His eyes followed the sound quickly.

The little sisters of Peninnah Penelope Anne were on the floor before a playhouse, outlined by stones and sticks, and with rapt faces and competent fancies, saw whatsoever they would.  In these riches of imagination a little brother also partook.  A stick, accoutred in such wise with scraps of buckskin as to imitate a gallant of the place and period, was bowing respectfully before another stick, vested in the affabilities of age and the simulacrum of a dressing-gown.

“I love your granddaughter, sir, and wish to make her my wife,” said the bowing stick.

“Command me, sir; command me!” suavely replied the stick stricken in years.

The scene had been an eye-opener to the tender youth of the little Mivanes; the pomp and circumstance of a sentimental disclosure they would never forget.

Emsden, as hardy a pioneer as ever drew a bead on a panther or an Indian, passed on, quaking at the thought of the wits of the Station as he had never yet feared man, and his respected Irish blood ran cold.  And when it waxed warm with wrath once more it came to pass that to utter the simple phrase “Command me” was as much as a man’s life was worth at Blue Lick Station.

Emsden thought ruefully of the girl’s mother and wondered if her intercession would avail aught with the old autocrat.  But he had not yet ventured upon this.  There was nothing certain about Mrs. Mivane but her uncertainty.  She never gave a positive opinion.  Her attitude of mind was only to be divined by inference.  She never gave a categorical answer.  And indeed he would not have been encouraged to learn that Richard Mivane himself had already consulted his daughter-in-law, as in this highhanded evasion of any decision he felt the need of support.  For once the old gentleman was not displeased with her reply, comprehensive, although glancing aside from the point.  Since there were so many young men in the country, said Mrs. Mivane, she saw no reason for despair!  With this approval of his temporizing policy Richard Mivane left the matter to the development of the future.