“A man’s first worldly duty is to his wife and children, friend Lawler,” said Mr Meadows. “I blame you not, for we may perchance even yet have to fight for them before help comes.”
“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed the settler; but he took down with nervousness fowling-piece and rifle, and began to wipe and oil them ready for service.
“I’d almost ask you to help in a time of need like this,” he continued, “but for your cloth.”
“Help, friend Lawler! Yes, I’ll help; for I have already turned man of war in defence of the Moa’s Nest, and am afraid that I did some mischief amongst these men you call locusts; but they deserved it all, I fear.”
“Fear, parson!” exclaimed the other. “I would that you had had the scoundrels in a row, so that one bullet would have killed the lot! It would have been the best message of peace you ever sent through the district.”
“But had I not better ride in some other direction to summon help? If you could lend me another horse, I would gladly go: Joey, my pony, is slow, and not suited to the work.”
The settler mused for a few moments.
“You might ride to Black Rock!” he returned. “It will be a dark journey, and a long one; but the Allens would come to a man, and all stanch fellows, who can use a rifle.”
“Put on the saddle, and give me a morsel of bread; for no time should be lost. You will be kind to our poor afflicted sister.”
“Kind!” was the reply, in such a tone that the clergyman smiled gently, and pressed the rough hand extended to him.