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He who was used to success, and to easy victories always,

Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to scorn by a maiden,

Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend whom most he had trusted!

Ah! 'twas too much to be borne, and he fretted and chafed in his armor!

"I alone am to blame," he muttered, " for mine was the folly.

What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and gray in the harness,

Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the wooing of maidens?

?T was but a dream, — let it pass, — let it vanish like so many others!

What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, and is worthless;

Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it away, and henceforward

Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer

of dangers!" Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat

and discomfort, While he was marching by day or lying at

night in the forest, Looking up at the trees, and the constellations

beyond them.

After a three days' march he came to an Indian encampment

Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and the forest;

Women at work by the tents, and the warriors, horrid with war-paint,

Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking together;

Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of the white men,

Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and sabre and musket,

Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from

among them advancing, Came to parley with Standish, and offer him

furs as a present; Friendship was in their looks, but in their

hearts there was hatred. Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers

gigantic in stature, Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og,

king of Bashan; One was Pecksuot named, and the other was

called Wattawamat. Round their necks were suspended their knives

in scabbards of wampum, Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as

sharp as a needle* Other arms had they none, for they were cun*

ning and crafty.. "Welcome, English!" they said, — these words

they had learned from the traders

Touching at times on the coast, to barter and

chaffer for peltries. Then in their native tongue they began to parley with Standish, Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok,

friend of the white man, Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly

for muskets and powder, Kept by the white man, they said, concealed,

with the plague, in his cellars, Eeady to be let loose, and destroy his brother

the red man! But when Standish refused, and said he would

give them the Bible, Suddenly changing their tone, they began to

boast and to bluster. Then Wat'tawamat advanced with a stride in

front of the. other, And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly

spake to the Captain:

"Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the Captain,

Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of the brave Wattawamat

Is not afraid at the sight. He was not born of a woman,

But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven by lightning,

Forth he sprang at a bound, with all his weapons about him,

Shouting, ' Who is there here to fight with the brave Wattawamat V"

Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade on his left hand,

Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on the handle,

Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister meaning:

"I have another at home, with the face of a man on the handle;

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