here."

The manner in which the chaplain had left the Hut, and his
disappearance in the ravine, were then explained to the overseer, who
evidently had quitted the mill, on his return, before the divine
performed his exploit. There was a sinister expression in Joel's eyes,
as he heard the account, that might have given the alarm to men more
suspicious than the two old soldiers; but he had the address to conceal
all he felt or thought.

"If Mr. Woods has gone into the hands of the Injins, in his church
shirt," rejoined the overseer, "his case is hopeless, so far as
captivity is consarned. One of the charges ag'in the captain is, that
the chaplain he keeps prays as regulairly for the king as he used to do
when it was lawful, and agreeable to public feelin'."

"This you heard, while under examination before the magistrate you have
named?" demanded the captain.

"As good as that, and something more to the same p'int. The 'squire
complained awfully of a minister's prayin' for the king and r'yal
family, when the country was fightin' 'em."

"In that, the Rev. Mr. Woods only obeys orders," said the serjeant.

"But they say not. The orders is gone out, now, _they_ pretend,
for no man to pray for any on 'em."

"Ay--orders from the magistrates, perhaps. But the Rev. Mr. Woods is a
divine, and has his own superiors in the church, and _they_ must
issue the commands that he obeys. I dare to say, your honour, if the
archbishop of Canterbury, or the commander-in-chief of the church,
whoever he may be, should issue a general order directing all the
parsons not to pray for King George, the Rev. Mr. Woods would have no
scruple about obeying. But, it's a different thing when a justice of
the peace undertakes to stand fugleman for the clergy. It's like a navy
captain undertaking to wheel a regiment."

"Poor Woods!" exclaimed the captain--"Had he been ruled by me, he would
have dropped those prayers, and it would have been better for us both.
But, he is of your opinion, serjeant, and thinks that a layman can have
no authority over a gownsman."

"And isn't he right, your honour! Think what a mess of it the militia
officers make, when they undertake to meddle with a regular corps. Some
of our greatest difficulties in the last war came from such awkward
hands attempting to manage machines of which they had no just notions.
As for praying, your honour, I'm no wise particular _who_ I pray
for, or _what_ I pray for, so long as it be all