The Englishman laughed. "You have a most extraordinary way of boasting, you know. You may take your sunrise on the mountain, but I prefer this moonlight in the heather. A glass about half full of water, please. Thank you, very kind I assure you." The Briton sat and sipped his Scotch while the Major paced up and down the room, hands behind him, deep in thought. But soon he took his chair again, a proof that what now was to come was not a speculation but the outline of a plan of action. "Where's Tom?" he asked, nodding at Gid, but with an eye upon Wash Sanders. "Over at my house," Wash Sanders answered. "Well, when you go home, take this message to him. Say that I said go at once to the neighbors for five miles below your house, along the county road, and tell them that trouble of a serious nature has come--tell them to meet, men, women and children, at my house by daylight in the morning. Have him remind them that his house, on account of its situation high above the river, is the easiest to defend, and that it will accommodate more people than any other house in the neighborhood. Tell the men, of course, to bring their arms and all the ammunition they have. Explain that a sufficient number of men will be left here to protect the women and children, while the large majority of us will make all possible haste to the county seat. Tell the men to come mounted. Now is it clear to you?" "Major," Wash Sanders spoke up with more than his usual show of spirit, "the doctors have condemned my body but they hain't condemned my mind. It is clear to me, sir, and I will go now." "All right," said the Major. "And Jim," he added, "you do the same with the upper end of the road." The giant was smoking. He stood his pipe against a corner of the fire-place, got up and without saying a word, strode away. Wash Sanders was soon gone, after halting at the door to say that he might not be able to eat enough to keep a setting hen alive, but that he reckoned he could pull a trigger with any man that ever came over the pike. And now the Major, old Gid and the Englishman sat looking into the fire. "War time, Gid," said the Major. "Yes, without banners and without glory," the old fellow replied. "You are right. In the opinion of the majority of Americans, bravery on our part will be set down as a cruelty and a disgrace. The newspaper press of the north will condemn us. But we can't help that, for a man must protect his home. Mr. Low, there is nothing so unjust as politics." "We have had many examples of it in England, sir." "Yes," said the Major, "there have been examples of it everywhere. In this country political influences have narrowed some of the broadest minds." "In England political prejudices have killed poets," the Englishman said. "And now," Gid put in, "while you are discussing the evil I will try a little more of the good. John, have another peep at the blue dome above?" "No, I must go and give Mrs. Cranceford old Billy's letter."