"When the ass is spurred too hard it tries to kick off its rider," said Sebastian, who had proverbs in his blood, "Are you for the rider or the ass?" "I don't know," said Andrew, puzzled, "My house is divided. I should have thought more about it before. I know my father must be for the King." "Then you must be for the King," said Sebastian, with Latin respect for paternal authority, "It is ugly when a cause divides son and father--even a good cause. "I don't know," said Andrew again, "It doesn't seem real yet." Again he saw the dim picture of his brother aiming a musket at a toy-soldier corporal--the picture was fantastic--it could not have occurred. "I can't believe they're really fighting," he added, "I can't. The ministry has passed some bad laws, of course--but Hancock and Adams--who'd ever fight for them?" "Once men have started to fight, they forget what set them on," Sebastian said, "It is like a game of ball--the ball is nothing--the thing is to throw the ball so it counts for your side. Those who watch the game see better than the players. Only, in war, you cannot stand off and watch the game." "I don't want to fight the King's soldiers, though," said Andrew, "Why should I? And I certainly can't imagine fighting Lucius." "You will have to do one or the other," said Sebastian, placidly, "But the winning side is always hard to tell." "Not this time," said Andrew, feeling his tongue grow curiously bitter, "If there really is a revolt, they'll put it down as they put down the Pretender at Culloden. Butcher Cumberland. They have a trained army. We have nothing. I mean the Colonials have nothing," he added hastily. "God sometimes gets tired of the man on the ass," said Sebastian, "If I didn't think that, I would strangle myself here with my own hands." "Perhaps," said Andrew, considering, "But if I were betting, I should bet on the man." "You have already bet on the ass, my friend," said Sebastian, with a chuckle, "If you had not, you would not be here." His shoulder was withdrawn from beneath Andrew's hand. He turned over on his side. "I have some letters from home," muttered Andrew, "I can tell better when I read them--is there ever any light in this place, Sebastian?" "A little, in the morning. I remember when we first made this cellar, I wondered why it was dug so deep." He was silent. Andrew heard him begin to breathe deeply and quietly. "What's the matter, Sebastian--are you going to sleep?" "Why not?" said a drowsy voice, "I may dream my knife did not slip after all."