If all the world loves a lover, all men having the best virile instinct will fight for a lover's cause.
Both Kenton and Oncle Jazon were enthusiastic; they wanted nothing better than an opportunity to aid in rescuing any girl who had shown so much patriotism and pluck.

But Oncle Jazon was fond of Alice, and Beverley's story affected him peculiarly on her account.
"They's one question I'm a goin' to put to ye, young man," he said, after he had heard everything and they had talked it all over, "an' I want ye to answer it straight as a bullet f'om yer gun." "Of course, Jazon, go ahead," said Beverley.

"I shall be glad to answer." But his mind was far away with the gold-haired maiden in Hamilton's prison.

He scarcely knew what he was saying.
"Air ye expectin' to marry Alice Roussillon ?" The three men were at the moment eating the well broiled venison.

Oncle Jazon's puckered lips and chin were dripping with the fragrant grease and juice, which also flowed down his sinewy, claw-like fingers.
Overhead in the bare tops of the scrub oaks that covered the prairie oasis, the February wind sang a shrill and doleful song.
Beverley started as if a blow had been aimed at him.