“Nevertheless, be it a fanciful folly or grave wisdom, I will take the liberty to iterate the request, and will hold myself indebted if it be granted.”

“Surely,” said Spikeman, “it is a light thing, and because you wish it, it shall be done.  Call in the men from the margin of the clearing, and we will begin preparations for return.”

Let no surprise be felt at the character of the conversation betwixt the superior and inferior officer, and at the influence exercised by the latter over the former.  The men under the command of the Assistant for the occasion were not regular soldiers but ordinary citizens; liable, it is true, to be called out at any moment to do military duty whenever an exigency arose, but without being subject to any very strict discipline.  The most of them were voters, and hence a source of power, and therefore to be courted by any one ambitious of political distinction.  Such an one was the Assistant, and he stood in about the same relation to his men that a modern militia captain, who is desirous of civil office, does to his company of soldiers, and who, through fear of giving offence and so losing the object of his aspirations, is obliged to relax the strictness of military rule.

On receiving the order, Lieutenant Venn started off to execute it, and, as soon as he was gone, Spikeman took Ephraim Pike aside.

“Ephraim,” he said, “the badger may lie hid in some cunning place of concealment in the house, and after all laugh at our simplicity at our departure without him.”

“That can hardly be,” said Pike.  “The house has been thoroughly searched, and I would pledge my life the Knight is not in it.”

“Verily thou mayest be right, yet is there a possibility of mistake.  Ephraim, with our hands on the plough, we will not look back.  We must burn this nest of hornets, and should the Knight of the Melice be burned with it, there will be no harm done.”

“I suppose,” said Ephraim, rather sulkily, “this is a service you want to put on my shoulders, but an’ you wish to burn the house, you can burn it yourself.”

“That can I not do,” answered Spikeman.  “The thing must be done secretly, so that it may appear the consequence of some accident.  Were I to absent myself I should be missed, but thou canst do it without suspicion.”

“And suppose it done, what then?” asked Pike.

“Thou shalt have a gold piece for that which costs thee but little trouble and no risk.”

“How shall it be done?”

“I will presently take all the inmates of the cabin with us on our return.  After we have gone a few rods, do thou retrace thy steps and fire the building, and hurry back immediately.”

“But should I be missed?”

“There is little probability of that; but thou knowest me, Ephraim, and can be certain that I will be able to account satisfactorily therefor should it happen.”

“Yea, I do know thee,” said Ephraim to himself, “for as cunning a one as Beelzebub himself; but thou hast never failed me, and I will trust thee yet again.  I will do the thing,” he said aloud, “since thy mind is set thereon; but it rubs mightily against the grain.”