“Tush, man! get your Bible and look.  I am no scholar, but I know that the Lord calls Himself a man of war—­that He rides forth, sword in hand, conquering, and to conquer; that the armies in heaven itself fight under the Archangel against the powers of darkness.  And are we men to let our brothers be brutally murdered, whilst we sit with folded hands, or wrangle weeks and months away, as you Quakers are wrangling over some petty question of taxation which a man of sense would settle in five minutes?  I am ashamed of Philadelphia!  The whole world will be pointing the finger of scorn at us.  We are acting like cowards—­like fools—­not like men!  If there were but a man to lead us forth, I and a hundred stout fellows would start forth to the border country tomorrow to wage war with those villainous Indians and their more villainous allies the crafty sons of France.”

“Have patience, friend,” said the Quaker youth, with his solemn air; “I tell thee that the Assembly is in the right.  Who are the Penns these proprietaries—­that their lands should be exempt from taxation?  If the Governor will yield that point, then will the Assembly raise the needful aid for keeping in check the enemy, albeit it goes sorely against their righteous souls.  But they will not give everything and gain nothing; it is not right they should.”

“And while they wrangle and snarl and bicker, like so many dogs over a bone, our countrywomen and their innocent children are to be scalped and burnt and massacred?  That is Scripture law, is it? that is your vaunted religion.  You will give way—­you will yield your principles for a petty victory on a point of law, but not to save the lives of the helpless brothers who are crying aloud on all hands to you to come and save them!”

The Quaker youth moved his large feet uneasily; he, in common with the seniors of his party, was beginning to find it a little difficult to maintain a logical position in face of the pressing urgency of the position.  He had been brought up in the tenets which largely prevailed in Pennsylvania at that day, and was primed with numerous arguments which up till now had been urged with confidence by the Quaker community.  But the peace-loving Quakers were beginning to feel the ground shaking beneath their feet.  The day was advancing with rapid strides when they would be forced either to take up arms in defence of their colony, or to sit still and see it pass bodily into the hands of the enemy.

Susanna was peeping in at the door of the next room.  She knew both the speakers well.  Ebenezer Jenkyns had indeed been paying her some attention of late, although she laughed him to scorn.  Much more to her liking was bold John Stark, her father’s kinsman; and as there was nobody in the room beside these two, she ventured to go a step within the doorway and ask: 

“What is the matter now, Jack? what are you two fighting about so hotly?”

“Faith, ’tis ever the same old tale—­more massacres and outrages upon our borders, more women and children slaughtered!  Settlers from the western border calling aloud to us to send them help, and these Quaker fellows of the Assembly doing nothing but wrangle, wrangle, wrangle with the Governor, and standing idle whilst their brothers perish.  Save me from the faith of the peace makers!”