The father had gone to the verge of endurance during the day. He was past fifty, quite bulky in figure, and about the only qualification he possessed for the self-appointed task, was his courage.
The three compelled the old gentleman to yield, and Maggie, with the shrewdness natural to her sex, turned to Habakkuk, who was standing at one side, and laying her pretty hand on his shoulder, said:
"Habakkuk, you think a good deal of me, don't you?"
He held off a second or so, while she turned her winsome face up to his in the gloom. He meant to sulk and compel her to coax him, but his heart gave a big jump at the touch of that hand, and, when he was able to see very faintly that countenance so close to his own, it was more than he or any sensible person could stand.
His face suddenly expanded into an all-embracing grin, and he made answer:
"Think a good deal of you, Maggie, you dear, sweet, angelic angel. Why, I worship the ground you walk on; all I came here for was to see you. I don't care a blamed cent for the others."
"If you think so much of me, then, won't you take some risk for my sake, as well as that of the others?"
"Of course I will; it will delight me—"
"Then do as father requested you."
"And go prowling outside among the Indians and Tories?"