University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

On the banks of one of the tributaries of Taunton river,
and within the ancient limits of the town bearing the same
name, stands one of the oldest houses in New England. Having
been originally constructed in the substantial and massive
style of the English cottage architecture of the seventeenth
century, when men, unlike those of the present age of lath
and plaster, built less for show than durability, this ancient
mansion is still, or till recently was, in a remarkable state of
preservation. The builder of the establishment, whose name
has found a place in our histories, no less on account of its
association with that of King Philip, than from the fact that
he was the founder in the new world of one of the most numerous
and respectable families of colonial planting, was a native
of the west of England, and, having immigrated some time
during the first twenty or thirty years of the existence of the
colonies, had here erected the first iron forge or smithery deserving
the name ever put in operation, it is said, in any part
of America. This fact alone made it, for many years after
its establishment, a place of no little note in the surrounding
country; since all classes, both white and red men, were alike
compelled to resort here for such kinds of smith-work, as became
essential in their various occupations. The white settlers
came for their axes, hoes, chains, and the numerous other

tools and utensils required in the prosecution of their different
agricultural or mechanical employments. And the red
men came from their forest homes, for hundreds of miles
around, to get their hatchets or tomahawks, knives, steel-traps,
and fish-spears made, and their guns repaired. This constant
intercourse with all kinds of persons, thus kept up for years
by the proprietor in the business of his calling, made him
personally known as widely perhaps as any individual in all
the colonies. And had his character and manner of dealing
been like too many others, his situation in the terrible war
now enkindled, on the very borders of a territory whose dark
forests were swarming with the most active and inveterate of
the savage foe, might have been fraught with peculiar trials
and dangers, either from the jealousy of his own people, who,
in their excitement and alarm, were often so suspicious as to
construe the least indication of a disposition for neutral action
into meditated treason, or from the bullets of the lurking
savages, who all knew him, and would have availed themselves
of the circumstance of the war to avenge any injuries or affronts
they might have previously received. But James Leonard,
in his character and dealings, and especially his dealings with
the red men, was not like those of most others of that day of
narrow philanthrophy and religious arrogance. His enlarged
benevolence of heart and high conscientiousness, together
with his innate honesty, led him to make no discrimination
between the sin of cheating a red man and the sin of cheating
a white man. And his dealings were alike, just and fair
with the former as with the latter. His whole conduct and
demeanor, also, were equally kind and respectful towards the
one as towards the other. And yet not even the semblance
of a boast ever was heard to pass his lips. The word, honesty,
indeed, so far as regarded himself and his dealings, was never
uttered by him. His moral creed was acted not professed.
And a creed thus possessed, and thus, and thus only, manifested,
was the very thing to enlist the admiration and gain the
confidence of the Indians, who are the most, perhaps, searching
moral critics, and the closest and most accurate readers of
men and their motives that were ever known, among all the
different races of mankind.

But among all his red customers, there were none who so
keenly appreciated the character and conduct of the honest
and unbigoted mechanic as King Philip of Mount Hope.
And the appreciation of the discriminating and noble hearted
chieftain, continually enhanced and made effective as it was
by the mental contrast which he was forever drawing between
the treatment he had so uniformly received from its object,
and that of the arrogant and over-reaching colonists, whom
it had been his fortune generally to encounter, gradually
ripened into a lively and solicitous regard, amounting to a
friendship, indeed, which the hostile relations that the parties
were now compelled nominally to assume, had no power to
destroy, and which continued, and showed itself alike in
words and actions, till the last days of his life.

To the establishment above described, we must now take
the reader, to introduce the new characters, and note the new
events which arise to mark the progress of our story.

In the long, low, oak-ceiled sitting-room of the mansion
just described, on the second evening after the terrible night
marked by the fearful incidents whose attempted portrayal
occupied the last chapter, sat the worthy proprietor, musing
in the twilight, and enjoying that grateful repose, after the
active duties of the day, which the laboring man only can
ever know. He was a man of a strong, well made frame,
plain features, and a frank, kindly, but firm countenance,
which, with his quiet, self-possessed manner, seemed equally
well calculated to win confidence and command respect. Not
sharing in the general jealousy and alarm which had seized
upon the people living near the borders of King Philip's dominions,

and led hundreds of them to desert their homes for
the older settlements, or to immure themselves in blockhouses,
he had erected no kind of defenses around his buildings,
kept no fire-arms for his own use, employed none to
stand on the lookout to announce the approach of suspicious
personages, and manifested no apprehensions when any such
did approach, that they were coming for evil either to himself
or family. And it was therefore with no disturbance of manner,
and with an air of mere enquiry or curiosity, that he
now, as he sat near an open window, in the listless attitude
before mentioned, caught sight of an unknown, muffled figure,
gliding silently into the door-yard. The new comer, though
accoutred as much like an Indian as a white man, and though
the visible parts of his skin were bronzed nearly to the color
of the former, yet evidently belonged to the race of the latter;
while his erect figure, firm carriage, well formed intellectual
features, and the dark, steady eye that beamed over his thick,
bushy beard, and from under his once black, but now deeply
grizzled locks, plainly showed him to be a man of decision,
capacity, and of a more than ordinary strength of character.
He paused a few yards from the door, and while affecting an
attitude of careless indifference, sent a searching glance
around, and into every visible part of the building, in a manner
which seemed to indicate that he had his private reasons
for wishing to know what kind of company he might be liable
to encounter if he entered; when, appearing to satisfy
himself on that point, he unceremoniously passed into the
door, and the next moment stood before the still undisturbed,
but wondering owner.

“Upon my word, friend Crocker, I did not till this instant
quite know you,” exclaimed Leonard, extending his hand to
the other, with that brightening up of countenance usually
attending the sudden transition from doubt to an agreeable
recognition. “You return in a new disguise. How have

you prospered in effecting your objects during the month or
more elapsed since I saw you?”

“For the main part, wonderfully well, considering the dubious
character of the enterprise; yea, wonderfully, my discreet
friend—think I have pretty certainly narrowed down my
suspicions to a point, as regards money matters, and as to the
other matter of concern you and I discussed, before I started
on the expedition, I found affairs worse than I expected; but
that, at least, I have effectually remedied.”

“How?”

“The stranger here, with a glance at the doors and windows,
as if doubtful about answering the question aloud, drew
up and whispered something in the ear of the other, who, with
a look of surprise and admiration, exclaimed:—

“Why, you are as adventurous as the old Knight Errants
we read about!”

“Ay,” resumed the former; “but I have been through as
many perils as St. Paul in effecting my objects.”

“From the Indians?”

“No—I am hunted of white men, not red ones.”

“True; but a bloody war had broke out since you went on
yonr hazardous adventure.”

“I know it all, Leonard; and that circumstance may have
added to my peculiar risks, as it certainly has to my perplexities.
But I spoke not of that; I have been shipwrecked,
Leonard.”

“You have? Shipwrecked, did you say?”

“Yea, sir; but don't be alarmed. I and a certain other
person were landed in safety.”

“But where is that person, now?”

“Dispatched to a place of safety, with the safest of attendants.”

“I think I understand you in all that; but not when,
where, or how you suffered shipwreck.”

“We were wrecked in the frightful storm, night before
last, on the south-eastern end of Aquineck.”

“Were all the crew saved?”

“Yes, I conjecture so—and the vessel too, probably; and
if so, I shall be glad the event occurred.”

“Then you must have got separated from the ship, some
how?”

“We did, most strangely, and I will now briefly relate to
you how we came to be on shipboard, how our perilous passage
by water so abruptly ended, and why I think it may be well
that it did so.”

“Do so. You can talk safely here now, I think; but others
may soon be about to prevent.”

“I will,” replied the mysterious stranger, throwing another
glance out of the window, then drawing his chair near that
of his host, and speaking in a tone and manner which showed
that well understood relations of confidence existed between
the two.

“I decided to return mostly by water, because one of the
few white men, besides you and Roger Williams, who has my
secret, owns and commands a small schooner, which he plies
between the head of Buzzard's Bay and the southern ports
and settlements. And he, offering to take us round to Newport,
and then provide a safe passage for us up to Providence,
or to such other place as I should decide to go, we, after
many delays, embarked early, day before yesterday morning,
and set sail with a good prospect of a run down the bay that
would take us to our port before nightfall. But in the afternoon,
we were delayed by calms, and with the approach of
night, we were overtaken by a terrific tempest, which soon
disabled our craft, and at length drove her out into the broad
ocean, rolling and tossing about almost wholly at the mercy
of the winds and waves, with a rocky lee shore on our right,
towards which we found ourselves rapidly drifting. But we

were helpless, and could do nothing but await in gloomy suspense
the fate that seemed in store for us all.

“That suspense was for a short time relieved, it is true, by
the appearance of a vessel which seemed to be bearing down
from East Bay, and which our captain hoped would be able to
take us in tow. But in the frequent clear views we obtained
of her, in the broad flashes of lightning that were continually
leaping out from the receding thunder cloud, and
blazing far and wide over the trembling ocean, our watchful
captain soon perceived, and announced with a tone of despair
that she had tacked for a more outward course, we by this
time having been driven where she no longer dared to follow.
It was the captain of our vessel, as I said, and the crew that
were now filled with fear and despair, not I. But for the one
I had with me, I would have preferred to abide the risks of
shipwreck to being taken on board the approaching vessel, for
I had perceived her deck crowded with a crew who were much
too numerous for the purpose of working the ship, and who,
for the most part, did not look like ordinary sailors, and therefore,
must have been there for some special object, which I
thought very likely concerned myself.

“But there was not permitted much time, either to the
captain and crew for indulging in their regrets, or to me for
balancing the dubious alternatives I was revolving in my mind.
Before we were aware of our proximity to the land, we were
whirled into a cove and run aground, about a hundred yards
from the shore. The captain believing the vessel must soon
be broken up, decided on trying to get to the land in our
ship's boat; and, lowering and manning it with two strong
rowers, assigned to me and my companion the chance of first
embarking. This we did, and starting on the back of an inrolling
wave, were, in three minutes, safely landed on the
narrow beach; when we hastily retreated up the bank beyond
the reach of the highest waves, leaving the boat to return for

the rest. But nathless the intent, that, for some wise ordering,
was not to be permitted. Just as the boat reached the
schooner, the reflux of a mighty wave, which had lifted her
clear from the bottom, carried her out beyond the points
of the cove, when a sudden flaw of wind from off shore striking
her, she was driven out faster than she came in, and was
soon seen nearing the other vessel that appeared to be laying
to in the distance, either to assist us, or—”

“But you two?” interposed the other with an air of surprise
at the calmness of the narrator in describing the affair—
“What was your situation, thus deserted and left alone in the
night on that woody, uninhabited shore?”

“Alone! Why, for myself I desired to be alone. Night
and woods! Why, sir, for long, long years, they have been
my best safeguards! And my companion, even, might have
had reasons to face them all, in preference to falling in with
the other ship's company. But we were not left to remain
there alone, as we certainly at first supposed we were to be.
A half dozen red warriors soon came gliding to our side.”

“And were you not alarmed, then?”

“No, the very thing I should have wished had occurred;
for in the leader of the band arrayed in one of his many perfect
disguises, I thankfully recognized the sagacious and true
hearted man who has been my constant friend and protector
from the first year of my ostracism. To you, I need not call
his name.”

“No, but how came he and his men there?”

“Why it seems, as I afterwards gathered from him by
piecemeal, that a smart battle had been fought that afternoon
up near the Narrows of East Bay, between a company of
Plymouth troops, who had boldly penetrated into the heart
of Queen Wetamoo's dominions, and a band of her warriors,
that had pursued them to the shore, where, after making a
desperate stand, they were taken off by the same vessel whose

appearance had puzzled me as she came so near us in the
offing. And King Philip, who, with his warriors, was waiting
the result in the vicinity, having been informed by runners
of the unexpected escape of the intruders, and supposing
they would be landed somewhere on the opposite shore, had
crossed over with part of his force in canoes, at the Narrows
above, to intercept them; when on seeing the vessel on the
move down the Bay, he kept pace with her, stationing men
at intervals along the shore, while he with a select band proceeded
on till he witnessed from a neighboring projection
their escape into the open sea, as well as the singular event,
attending our vessel, by which I and my companion were
brought to land.”

“We heard of that battle here yesterday, but nothing of
the subsequent movements of King Philip, which you have
named. It was lucky for his opponents, that they had not
been landed as he expected, else they must have fallen into
his hands.”

“Doubtless they would, but I would like to know who are
that company; and especially the man who commanded them
with such evident fearlessness and fortune?”

They are a company of hardy young woodsmen, who, on
the first alarm, all promptly volunteered to serve under their
equally young commander, Captain Willis, who, though acting
with his men in a mere voluntary capacity, not being in
favor enough at the court of Plymouth to procure a commission,
has yet already done more in keeping the enemy in
check than all the regularly commissioned companies put together.
And since this last bold exploit, the whole country
is ringing with his praises.”

“Aye, you interest me in the man, friend Leonard. The
fact that he could not, or did not, get a commission from the
bigot leaders at Plymouth, with me argues in his praise, instead
of disparagement, at the very outset. But if the news

of this battle was bruited, so as to reach here yesterday, as
you say, then the vessel that had them on board, when she
crossed our path, must have got into Newport with them that
night?”

“She did, as I understood, and brought with her in tow a
dismasted vessel, which was doubtless the one from which you
were landed in the storm.”

“It may be so,—it must be so,” said the stranger musingly;
yet I would like to know what course this young leader then
took with his band,—did you learn?”

“Yes,—they were about to take to the woods to scour the
coast opposite to the battle-ground the day before, suspecting,
probably, the Indians would come over as you say they did,—
but learning —”

“That may have been their object; and they may have
had another. The indications still puzzle me. But they
changed their purpose, you were about to say?”

“Yes,—learning that a body of Indians were threatening
Dartmouth, they came up in boats, and, forgetting the fatigues
and dangers they had gone through the day and night
before, pushed on vigorously at once for that place, which, it
was thought, they would reach considerably in advance of the
regular companies, who had commenced moving for the same
destination round by the roads, that morning.”

“Doubtless they will, if they took woodmen's direct courses,
and their leader is what you describe him,—Willis,—you
are sure this young leader's name is?”

“Aye, Vane Willis is his name.”

“I have learned something about him this trip, but never
saw him, as he has come on to the stage of action since I was
abroad in the colonies. And from what I have gathered from
you, and what I noticed of Metacom's evident anxiety, at least
to keep trace of his movements, I should deem him a person
who must soon be conspicuous in the contest. And I should

not be surprised if he and Metacom were hereafter to be
known as the two great heroes of the war. Yet would to
Heaven there had been no occasion for displays of courage,
and warlike skill on the part of either. And had justice and
honesty prevailed at the court of Plymouth, instead of bigotry
and wrong, there would have been none; for you and I know,
Leonard, that this war has been most unnecessarily,—most
wickedly provoked.”

“I may have opinions which it were wiser to entertain in
silence than openly express, especially if I would live here in
peace with my own race, while declining to join them in a
war upon another race, who have never injured me or mine.
This luckless war has placed me in a painful position. This
you will the more readily feel, since you, yourself, are brought
by the same means, as you have already intimated, into a situation
of equal, if not greater difficulties.”

“Greater,—far greater. To take up arms against the men
of my own blood, though hunted by them like a wild beast, is
what I cannot do; and to take up arms against the red men,
who have so long protected and concealed me, is what I will
not do. To go and reside among the former, is but to court
the doom they have hung over me: while to remain among
the latter and be found with them, as the chances of war will
constantly make me liable to be, can result no better. It is a
perplexing strait. And it was the object of consulting you
on the matter, and replenishing my purse a little, which now
brought me here.”

“The last named of your wishes can speedily be complied
with; and while attending to it, as I had better do at once, I
will be considering the other. Give us your leathern pouch.
How much will you take this time?”

“Not a great quantity. I don't want to be cumbered with
over a pound in weight, and a good share of that in the
smaller coins, if you please.”

Taking the capacious purse of dressed deer-skin which the
stranger now drew forth and handed him, Leonard descended
to the cellar, and, proceeding to a dark and distant corner,
raised one of the broad flagstones of the flooring on to its
side against the wall. Beneath this lay a thinner flat stone,
which he also raised, and disclosed a small, rusty, iron chest,
sitting in a concealed vault below, but little more than
sufficient to contain it. Unlocking the chest, which appeared
to be about half filled with various kinds of English and
Dutch coins, he selected the required kinds and quantity,
carefully made all fast, returned, and handed the purse to the
stranger, who, while concealing it beneath his dress, asked—

“The deposit holds out yet, does it, Leonard?”

“Oh, yes—not more than half exhausted, probably.”

“So much the better. With my late glimpses of altered
prospects, my thoughts begin to go for economizing my fund,
which before I cared nothing for. But now for the other part
of my business. What would you advise?”

“I hardly know, unless you go beyond the limits of this
wretched warfare, to some southern settlement, where you
could not be identified by any body.”

“That were doubtless advisable, but for the necessity of my
being now often in this part of the country to receive and
answer the letters passing under cover between me and my
secret agent abroad. Still, I would be in a place of safety;
for though, six months ago, I would scarcely turn on my heel
to save my life, yet now I begin to feel I have something to
live for.”

“Then you feel confident of success there?”

“I am assured I may do so.”

“That is the main thing. But, should that object be
accomplished, will you then have the means of effecting the
restoration of your rights here?”

“Aye—that was what I meant when hinting about the

discoveries I had made in my journey. I found and took into
possession papers which I feared had been lost or purloined,
and which, I think, cannot fail to establish the right and
bring terrible retribution for the wrong. Ah! the traitor
robber little thinks he is now standing on a mine which will
soon explode beneath his feet.”

At this stage of the conversation, the door was gently
pushed open, and a tall, stately figure, dressed in the usual
garb of a sailor, noiselessly glided into the room without word
or ceremony. As the rays of the dimly burning candle, which
had been lighted for the little business transaction just narrated,
fell on his shapely features, which, by some application
to the skin, had been brought to the hue of the white man,
he would readily have been taken by ordinary observers—
unless something peculiar about his deportment had betrayed
him—for a stout, good-looking seaman. Carefully closing the
door behind him, he stood a moment and met the inquiring
glances of Leonard and his guest with a knowing smile, when
he advanced, and laying his hand on the shoulder of the
latter, quietly and in a low tone remarked—

“All done you wished—all right—all safe, Crocker.”

“Thank you, Metacom,” replied the latter. “You have
done me a service. Let me pay you some money this
time?”

“No,” promptly responded the chief, with a quick, repellent
gesture. “No; keep that to make the white man do
good for you, Crocker,” he added, withdrawing his hand; and
laying it, in turn, on Leonard's shoulder, smilingly asked—

“Leonard is well? The Indians have not killed him
yet?”

“No, Metacom,” replied the other with the air of one about
to qualify his answer. “Killed any of your family?” persisted
the chief in the same significant tone and manner. “Killed

any of the name of Leonard? Touched so much as one hair
of their heads, ever?”

“No,” rejoined Leonard, “I have not feared that—it is
not that.”

“No,” pursued Metacom, with emphasis—“no, nor ever
will—Leonards always safe, though every other white man of
the colony die, and every other house burn, they all safe, their
houses and property safe always from the red man, who never
makes war on those that use him well.”

“I know your good will towards me and mine, Metacom,”
said the other, kindly; “but why, oh why, would you come
here at such a time as this?”

“I came to tell you what I just say, that you are safe,” replied
the chief, earnestly, “safer than the governor in his
house at Plymouth; because I feared they would make you
believe you were in danger, and so lead you to do something
to anger my people.”

“I hope they will not drive me to that,” responded the
other, in a deprecating tone; “but they begin to look coldly
on me, because I will not join them in throwing all the blame
of the war on you. And they seem to expect I should assist
them in hunting you down, or informing where you may be
found. Did you know they have offered a large money reward
to any who shall take or kill you?”

“Ah!” exclaimed Metacom, starting and recoiling a step,
but quickly recovering. “Ah, that's so. Well,” he continued,
with a slightly sardonic laugh, while he bent a keen,
searching look upon the face of the other—“well, does Leonard
want money? If he does, Metacom is here, and his
heart would make him weak as a child, if his friend Leonard
should put out a hand to take him.”

“I shall never try to make you a prisoner, or assist others
to do it, Metacom,” said Leonard, touched by the visible
emotion which the other exhibited in his last remark.

“Leonard can shoot Metacom then, if he desire not to
make him prisoner,” resumed the hunted chief, in the same
mingled tone of melting and reproach. “Metacom will wait
till you go to the shop for a gun. Your people make it right
if no reward—if any Indian be found without gun, and peaceable,
your people make it all right to kill him. The court of
Plymouth make fine five shillings for white man to shoot a
gun at a rabbit, deer, bear, and everything but wolf and Indian;
so all right Leonard, Metacom will wait.”[1]

“O Metacom! Metacom!” exclaimed Leonard, with increasing
emotion and distress, “how you wrong me! But
you don't mean it; for you don't understand why I spoke of
the reward. I named it because the white men are on the
watch for you. And if they discover that you come here,
they will call me a traitor for harboring you, and punish me
for not betraying you. So, by coming here, you not only endanger
your own life, but make me liable to great trouble.
O Metacom, cannot this war, which is so painful to me, be
brought to an end? Can you not yet listen to proposals for
peace?”

“Listen to proposals of peace!” exclaimed the chief, his
eyes flashing, and his nostrils distending at the painful
thoughts and associations which the unexpected question
evoked from the depths of his embittered soul—“listen to
new proposals of peace from the court of Plymouth! Has
not Metacom been listening for years to their proposals of
peace, but to be mocked by treaties made purpose for white
man to break, and only for red man to keep? These are the

only treaties they want—the only treaties Metacom ever get.
The only peace they will have is the peace that gives them to
make slaves of the red men. But the Great Spirit never
make red men to be slaves and live. Then no peace—no,
never, Leonard, till your God make over white man to be honest
as Indian—till white man be ready to call Indian brother.
Then peace between white men and red men—easy made,
easy kept. From the great lakes to the sea, all peace—peace
everywhere the sun shines down on the two peoples, then
wanting of each other no more than they ready to do or give
themselves.”

“I could wish I were better able to gainsay the truth of
much of what you assert, Metacom,” responded Leonard, after
a thoughtful pause; “but, as good a cause of war as you may
suppose you have, I don't see how you can expect long to
maintain your ground against the troops of the colonies, now
all united to crush you. They are paid and regularly kept
supplied with provisions; so that their armies can be kept
constantly in the field. Your men have no pay, and no certain
supplies. They have already driven you from Montaup,
and destroyed all your growing corn. How then can you
keep your warriors together after the warm weather is over?”

“Metacom has an answer. When the Plymouth troops
destroyed all our much and beautiful corn at Montaup, and
thought to starve our people, so that our warriors could not
be kept together to trouble them, they forgot that just so much
of Metacom's corn as they destroyed this summer, must come
out of their own villages next winter to feed his people, and
they will be very lucky if they see no more trouble than
the loss of their corn when his warriors come to get it. They
forgot too, that the red warriors have no need to be kept together,
like their own, to make them the worst trouble. They
forgot how they have some time heard the lone, still going
wolf, when he find the great game, raise his long howl to the

sky, and every hill top and dark swamp, far away round send
back the hungry answer-cry of the scattered troop of his swift
footed brothers, telling him how quick they will be there to
help him. They forgot this; and more, they forgot there is
not a beast in the forest from which the red man refuses to
take a lesson of wisdom.”

“Your words have a dark and terrible meaning, Metacom,”
said the other shuddering. “God avert the calamities they
foreshadow. But suppose,” he continued, reverting to the
persuasive argument on which he had ventured, to see if he
could not turn the proud chief from his fearful purposes—
“But suppose you should triumph—even to the extent of
desolating the country, do you not know that King James
would never consent to lose his colonies here, but would send
over large armies, which must soon overpower and destroy
your people?”

“Never!” exclaimed the immovable chief, drawing himself
up to his full height, and raising his hand as if to invoke the
Great Spirit to attest his terrible resolution—“never! While
the great wilderness from here to the setting sun has cave or
rocky den left to hide the wolf or the bear, or tangled swamp
to make a home for the panther, never will the red man tamely
yield to the rule of the white man, but retreat from cave to
cave and swamp to swamp, fighting for his home and for his
freedom as he goes; for he has learned the bitter lesson that
to yield is to be a slave. Our language has no word that
means `slave,' Leonard.[2] We never dreamed there could be
one till we saw the white man.”

“Then your people, I fear, must eventually perish from
the land,” rejoined Leonard with a sigh.

“It is well,” said the chief. “The Wampanoog at least
can die no better.”

As Leonard was about to respond, a sudden start of the
chief, with a hasty gesture of Crocker, as if to impose silence,
arrested his attention; when, after a pause, he turned to them
and in an undertone said—

“What is it?—What do you think you hear, that disturbs
you?”

“He thinks he heard footsteps round the house; and if I
err not greatly, I heard the same,” replied Crocker, with an
uneasy look; while the chief kept silent, with his head dropped
in the attitude of intense listening.

“It may be my boys not abed yet,” suggested Leonard,
though careful to extinguish the candle.

“No—it is no boys make that,” quickly returned the chief.
“No, nor Indian; but the steps of white men when they
have design. Do they mean me, or you, Crocker?”

“Me, doubtless, I think,” answered the latter. “There
are those feeling a keener interest in my destruction, than any
in yours, and I fear my secret excursion may in some way
have given them the means of identifying and so tracing me
to this place. Nobody would dream of your being here at
this time, or would have detected you in that guise had they
seen you on the way.”

“Crocker is right,” responded the other; “but he shall
not be left alone to die, or be taken, while Metacom has a well
arm that can be lifted to save him.”

“Thank you, Metacom,” responded Crocker, warmly. “I
may need your help. But how many does your ear tell you
there are of them?”

“May be half-dozen near the house, and may be some more
keeping back little way,” was the reply.

“What course do you think they will be likely to take?”
asked the former, anxiously.

“Think they already got station round the house, and
waiting now for signal to rush in,” answered the latter.

“Then it were my lesser risk to anticipate their intention,
by trying to break through their ring and escape to the
woods,” promptly said Crocker.

The whispered consultation that now ensued between these
two brave and high-souled, but unrelentingly persecuted men,
whom circumstances, as diverse as were the races from which
they came, had thus brought together in the closest bonds of
sympathy and friendship, speedily resulted in the arrangement
that they both, in the first instance, should only show
and use the heavy oaken staffs which they had brought there
and set aside as they entered the house. But should they
themselves be assaulted with the more murderous weapons,
then the knives and pistols which they carried concealed
beneath their dresses should be used with all the effect which
cool heads and practised hands could give to them. It was
agreed, also, that Crocker, as he had before intimated, should
be the first to issue from the house, and then do his best to
break through the ranks of whatever assailing foes he might
encounter in his path, while Metacom should follow close
enough in the rear to be ready for any needed rescue. And
having thus settled the details of their hasty arrangement, and
agreed on a place of meeting at the border of the neighboring
forest, in case they became separated in the expected affray,
the former noiselessly took his position by the side of the
door, which he had carefully opened to favor a quick sally,
and stood a few minutes cautiously peering out, and settling
for himself the best mode of egress, and the direction then
to be taken promising the best facilities for an escape. Presently,
however, he shot out like an arrow into the dimly seen
space forming the broad, open yard round the buildings, and
glided stealthily but rapidly forward towards the highway,
about a dozen rods from the door from which he had made his
sudden exit. But he had not proceeded half that distance
before the alarm was given, and the sharp cries of “Look out

there! he is escaping! seize him! seize him!” rang out on the
stillness of the night; and the next instant a half-dozen dark
forms, leaping out from their hiding-places round the house,
were seen swiftly converging into line and bounding forward
in hot pursuit of the fugitive. The latter, however, having
now gained the highway, and putting himself to his utmost
speed, seemed in a fair way of distancing his pursuers, when
another cry of “Head him! there he comes! head him, Dick!”
was raised from behind him; and peering forward, he discerned
a man advancing, with flurried motions, directly in his
path, and hastily handling some kind of a musket, with the
evident intent of shooting him down on a nearer approach.
With a few rapid feints to confuse the new assailant, and prevent
him from getting any certain aim, the now doubly beset
fugitive sprang upon him with the suddenness of a tiger,
knocked down the threatening weapon with one blow of his
cudgel, and with another laid its owner sprawling upon the
earth. But the delay thus occasioned gave his pursuers in
the rear an advantage, which brought them to his back before
he could turn to face or elude them; and the next instant the
whole gang were upon him, and, in spite of all his desperate
efforts to free himself, fast bearing him to the ground, when
suddenly, groan after groan, mingled with cries of surprise
and alarm, burst in rapid succession from their lips. The
avenger, in the shape of the strong-armed chief, was at their
heels, bringing down upon their unguarded heads and limbs a
shower of blows so quick and powerful, that, before they could
recover from their surprise, seize the guns they had dropped
in the melee, and put themselves on the defensive, every man
of them was too much disabled or alarmed to offer resistance;
and they all fled, limping and howling with pain and rage,
away from the spot, leaving their arms as a welcome trophy
to the gallant and true-hearted chief, who had so adroitly won
them while effecting the more important object of rescuing
his friend from the grasp of a despicable band of kidnappers.

But who were those kidnappers, who had thus attempted to
seize or slay their intended victim without show of right or
authority, and who could, only by the most untiring efforts
of a secret espionage, have discovered and traced him to
this place through his strangely varied journey by sea and
land, and that, too, as was evident, under a deep disguise?
Aye, who were they, and by whom and for what dark purpose
instigated? The developments of next chapter may furnish
clues, perhaps, to the answers of some of the questions, at
least, which the reader will here very naturally join us in
asking.