"But you have taken an oath—you are under a solemn engagement, Carl, to fight against the government."
"You mishtake unce more—two times. I make a pargain. I say to that man, 'You let Mishter Hapgoot go free, and not let him be hurt, and I vill be a rebel.' Vell, he agrees. But he don't keep his vord. He lets 'em go for to hang you vunce more. Now, if he preaks his part of the pargain, vy shouldn't I preak mine?"
"Well, Carl," said Penn, laughing, while his eyes glistened, "I trust thy conscience is clear in the matter. I can only say that, though I don't approve of thy being a rebel, I love thee all the better for it. What do you think, Mr. Villars?"
"Sometimes people do wrong from a motive so pure and disinterested that it sanctifies the action. This is Carl's case, I think."
"Hello!" cried Carl, jumping up from the bank on which they were seated. "Guns! They are at it again! I vill go see!"
The boy disappeared, scrambling down the dry bed of the torrent.
The firing continued at irregular intervals for half an hour. Carl did not return. Penn grew anxious. He stood, intently listening, when he heard a noise behind him, and, turning quickly, saw the glimmer of musket-barrels over the rocks.
"Fire!" said a voice.
And Penn threw himself down under the bank just in time to avoid the discharge of half a dozen pieces aimed at his head.
"What is the trouble?" asked the old man, who was lying on some blankets spread for him there in the shade.