this news. It is not fair to conceal a civil war."

"My dear sir!" exclaimed the major, in concern--"are you not wrong?--
precipitate, I mean--Is it not better to preserve the secret, to give
yourself time for reflection--to await events?--I can discover no
necessity for this haste. Should you see things differently, hereafter,
an incautious word uttered at this moment might bring much motive for
regret."

"I have thought of all this, Bob, during the night--for hardly did I
close my eyes--and you cannot change my purpose. It is honest to let my
people know how matters stand; and, so far from being hazardous, as you
seem to think, I consider it wise. God knows what time will bring
forth; but, in every, or any event, fair-dealing can scarcely injure
him who practises it. I have already sent directions to have the whole
settlement collected on the lawn, at the ringing of the bell, and I
expect every moment we shall hear the summons."

Against this decision there was no appeal. Mild and indulgent as the
captain habitually was, his authority was not to be disputed, when he
chose to exercise it. Some doubts arose, and the father participated in
them, for a moment, as to what might be the effect on the major's
fortunes; for, should a very patriotic spirit arise among the men, two-
thirds of whom were native Americans, and what was more, from the
eastern colonies, he might be detained; or, at least, betrayed on his
return, and delivered into the hands of the revolted authorities. This
was a very serious consideration, and it detained the captain in the
house, some time after the people were assembled, debating the chances,
in the bosom of his own family.

"We exaggerate the danger," the captain, at length, exclaimed. "Most of
these men have been with me for years, and I know not one among them
who I think would wish to injure me, or even you, my son, in this way.
There is far more danger in attempting to deceive them, than in making
them confidants. I will go out and tell the truth; then we shall, at
least, have the security of self-approbation. If you escape the danger
of being sold by Nick, my son, I think you have little to fear from any
other."

"By Nick!" repeated half-a-dozen voices, in surprise--Surely, father--
surely, Willoughby--surely, my dear captain, you cannot suspect as old
and tried a follower, as the Tuscarora!"

"Ay, he is an _old_ follower, certainly, and he has been
_punished_ often enough, if he has