"The more paper government wastes on proclamations, the less it'll
have left for cartridges," he replied.
There was a laugh at this, but it was rather grim sort of talk, and a
good many of the farmers got into their sleighs and drove away with
very sober faces.
"It is the beginning of the end," said Squire Edwards, in high good
humor, as he sat in his parlor that evening. "From my seat I could see
the people. They were like frightened sheep. The rebellion is knocked
on the head. The governor won't have to call out a soldier. You see
the scoundrels have bad consciences, and that makes cowards of them.
This Hamlin here will be running away to save his neck in a week, mark
my words."
"I don't believe he is a coward, father, I don't believe he'll run
away," said Desire, explosively, and then quickly rose from the chair
and turned her back, and looked out the window into the darkness.
"What do you know about him, child?" said her father, in surprise.
"I don't think he seems like one," said Desire, still with her back
turned. And then she added, more quietly: "You know he was a captain
in the army, and was in battles."
"I don't know it; nobody knows it. He says so, that's all," replied
Edwards, laughing contemptuously.
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