the expense of the law; and this in face of the fact that, in a free country, a soldier is in truth nothing but one of the props of the law, in the last resort.  So with us; we are here to defend this house, and those it contains; and our military honour is far more concerned in doing that effectually, and by right means, than in running the risk of not doing it at all, in order to satisfy an abstract and untenable notion of a false code.  Let us do what is right, my son, and feel no concern that our honour suffer.”

Captain Willoughby said this, because he fancied it a fault in his son’s character, sometimes to confound the end with the means, in appreciating the ethics of his profession.  This is not an uncommon error among those who bear arms, instances not being wanting in which bodies of men that are the mere creatures of authority, have not hesitated to trample the power that brought them into existence under foot, rather than submit to mortify the feelings of a purely conventional and exaggerated pride.  The major was rebuked rather than convinced, it not being the natural vocation of youth to perceive the justice of all the admonitions of age.

“But, if one can be made auxiliary to the other, sir,” the son remarked, “then you will allow that professional esprit, and professional prudence, may very well march hand in hand.”

“Of that there can be no doubt, though I think it far wiser and more soldier-like, even, to use all proper precautions to guard this house, under our actual circumstances, than to risk anything material in order to satisfy our doubts concerning the state of that camp.”

“But the cabins, and all the property that lies exposed to fire and other accidents, including the mills?  Is it not worth your while to let me make a little excursion, in order to ascertain the state of things, as connected with them?”

“Perhaps it would, Bob”—­returned the father, after a little reflection.  “It would be a great point gained, to send a man to look after the buildings, and the horses.  The poor beasts may be suffering for water; and, as you say, the first thing will be to ascertain where our wild visiters really are, and what they are actually bent on.  Woods, go with us to the gate, and let us out.  I rely on your saying nothing of our absence, except to explain to the two nearest sentinels who we are, and to be on the look-out for us, against the moment we may return.”

“Will it not be very hazardous to be moving in front of the stockade, in the dark?  Some of our own people may fire upon you.”

“You will tell them to be cautious, and we shall use great circumspection in our turn.  I had better give you a signal by which we shall be known.”