Filled, like a quiver, with arrows : a signal and chal

lenge of warfare, Brought by the Indian, and speaking with arrowy

tongues of defiance. This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and heard

them debating What were an answer befitting the hostile message

and menace, Talking of this and of that, contriving, suggesting, objecting;

455 One voice only for peace, and that the voice of the

Elder, Judging it wise and well that some at least were con

verted, Rather than any were slain, for this was but Christian

behavior! Then out spake Miles Standish, the stalwart Captain

of Plymouth, Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was husky

460 “ What! do you mean to make war with milk and the

water of roses ? Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer

planted There on the roof of the church, or is it to shoot red

with anger,

Truly the only tongue that is understood by a savage Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the mouth of the cannon!”

465 Thereupon answered and said the excellent elder of

Plymouth, Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this irreverent lan

guage : “Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other Apos

tles; Not from the cannon's mouth were the tongues of fire

they spake with!” But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the Captain, 470 Who had advanced to the table, and thus continued

discoursing: “Leave this matter to me, for to me by right it per

taineth. War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is

righteous, Sweet is the smell of powder; and thus I answer the

challenge!”

Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sudden, contemptuous gesture,

475 Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with powder

and bullets Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to the Saying, in thundering tones: “Here, take it! this is

your answer!” Silently out of the room then glided the glistening

savage, Bearing the serpent's skin, and seeming himself like a serpent,

480 Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the depths of

the forest.

V

THE SAILING OF THE MAYFLOWER

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose

from the meadows, There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village

of Plymouth; Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order impera

tive, “Forward!” Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then silence.

485 Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out of the

village. Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valor

490

Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the

white men, North-w.ard marching to quell the sudden revolt of the

savage. Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty men of

King David; Giants in heart they were, who believed in God and

the Bible, Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites and

Philistines. Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners of

morning; Under them loud on the sands, the serried billows,

advancing, Fired along the line, and in regular order treated.

495

re

Many a mile had they marched, when at length the Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold

labors. Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the smoke

from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily east

ward; Men came forth from the doors, and paused and talked of the weather,

500 Said that the wind had changed, and was blowing fair

for the Mayflower; Talked of their Captain's departure, and all the dan

gers that menaced, He being gone, the town, and what should be done in

his absence. Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices of

women

Consecrated with hymns the common cares of the household.

505 Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows rejoiced

at his coming; Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of the

mountains; Beautiful on the sails of the Mayflower riding at