"It's so uncertain with us," was my reply. "I've known a whole winter without a snowflake, and I've walked knee-deep in it in May."
The Colonel stopped his marching and swishing and came to the window.
"Don't bother, Madge," said he. "We'll pull through. Hallo, I didn't see yon wagon last night."
He took out his snuff-box and, hearing the noise of the enemy in the corridor, walked with it in his hand across to the door. He tapped his box with accustomed preciseness, but I, a step behind, having lingered for a last look into Margaret's eyes, heard him mutter, "Damn the wagon!"
"Ho, there within, in the King's name," shouted the sergeant.
"Ho, there without, in the devil's name," mimicked the Colonel.
"I want speech with Colonel Waynflete," shouted the sergeant.
"Then, seeing that Colonel Waynflete cannot at the moment give himself the pleasure of slitting your ruffian's throat, you may speak on," was the reply.
"You and your daughter may proceed on your way unharmed if you surrender. It's only Wheatman the farmer, now with you, that I want."
He could be heard all over the room to the last syllable, and Margaret quickly left her place at the window and came towards us, but the Colonel in a stern whisper ordered her back. "How dare you leave your post! Watch that wagon!" She crimsoned and returned.