rms. I seated them both before me on the saddle, and at the moment of
starting for the fight, I had the pleasure of kissing their yellow
heads. My father, Joel, then said to my mother:

"Margarid, if fortune turns against us, and the car is attacked by the
Romans, do not free the dogs until the moment of attack. The brave
animals will be only the more furious for their long wait, and will not
then stray away from where you are."

"Your advice will be followed, Joel," answered my mother. "Look and see
if these straps give the scythes enough play."

"Yes, they are free enough," answered my father, looking at some of the
straps. Then, examining the array of scythes which defended the other
side of the chariot, he broke out:

"Wife, wife! What were those girls thinking of! Look here! Oh, the
rattle heads! On this side the scythe-blades are turned towards the
shaft of the chariot, and over there they are pointed backwards!"

"It was I who had the weapons placed so," said she.

"And why are not all the blades turned the same way, Margarid?"

"Because a car is almost always attacked before and behind at once. In
that case the two rows of scythes, placed in opposite directions, are
the best defense. My mother taught me that, and I am showing the method
to these dear girls."

"Your mother saw further than I, Margarid. A good harvest time is thus
made certain. Let the Romans come and assault the car! Heads and limbs
will fall, mown down like ripe ears at the reaping! Let Hesus make it a
good one, this human harvest!"

Then, listening intently, my father said to Mikael and myself:

"Sons, I hear the cymbals of the bards and the clarions of the
_Trimarkisia_. Let us rejoin our friends. Well, Margarid, well, my
daughters,--till we meet again, here--or above!"

"Here or above, our fathers and husbands will find us pure and
unstained," answered Henory, more proud, more beautiful than ever.

"Victorious or dead you will see us again," added Madalen, a young
maiden of sixteen. "But enslaved or dishonored, no. By the glorious
blood of our Hena---- no---- never!"

"No!" said Martha, the wife of Mikael, pressing to her bosom her two
children, whom their father had just replaced in the chariot.

"These dear girls are of our race--rest easy, Joel," continued my
mother, even now calm and grave. "They will do their duty."

"Even as we will do ours. And thus will Gaul be delivered," answered my
father. "You also will do your du