"Your advice will be followed, Joel," answered my mother. "Look and see if these straps give the scythes enough play."
"Yes, they are free enough," answered my father, looking at some of the straps. Then, examining the array of scythes which defended the other side of the chariot, he broke out:
"Wife, wife! What were those girls thinking of! Look here! Oh, the rattle heads! On this side the scythe-blades are turned towards the shaft of the chariot, and over there they are pointed backwards!"
"It was I who had the weapons placed so," said she.
"And why are not all the blades turned the same way, Margarid?"
"Because a car is almost always attacked before and behind at once. In that case the two rows of scythes, placed in opposite directions, are the best defense. My mother taught me that, and I am showing the method to these dear girls."
"Your mother saw further than I, Margarid. A good harvest time is thus made certain. Let the Romans come and assault the car! Heads and limbs will fall, mown down like ripe ears at the reaping! Let Hesus make it a good one, this human harvest!"
Then, listening intently, my father said to Mikael and myself:
"Sons, I hear the cymbals of the bards and the clarions of the Trimarkisia. Let us rejoin our friends. Well, Margarid, well, my daughters,—till we meet again, here—or above!"
"Here or above, our fathers and husbands will find us pure and unstained," answered Henory, more proud, more beautiful than ever.