CHAPTER XXVIII.

  But, gasping, heaved the breath that Lara drew,
  And dull the film along his dim eye grew.

  BYRON.

On the arrival of the party at the settlement, Lieutenant Venn divided it into two detachments; at the head of one of which he carried the Assistant to his own house, while the other, under the command of an inferior officer, was charged with the security of the prisoners.  Only the sagamore was strictly confined, being ironed and placed in the same dungeon which Joy had occupied.  Sassacus made no resistance, but submitted with a stoical impassivity as to an irresistible fate.  The lady and Indian girl, as those from whom flight was less to be feared, and with whom it would be more difficult to effect, and also out of deference to the weakness of their sex, were committed to the care of Dame Bars, by whom they were to be closely watched.  As for Arundel, he was permitted to depart, the lieutenant informing him that he had been arrested only to prevent the carrying of information to the Knight.  It is doubtful, however, whether, if Spikeman had still been in command, he would have escaped on as easy terms.

The little community was thrown into some commotion by these events.  The dangerous wound of so prominent a person as the Assistant, and the capture of the renowned Indian sachem—­not to speak of the lady—­could not fail to occasion a lively interest.  As soon as the results of the night expedition were known, (and the news flew with wonted celerity,) every body was in the streets, giving and receiving information, or what purported to be such, and making and listening to comments thereupon.  We cannot, however, remain to hear the conversation of the grave citizens at the corners, but must follow those whose particular fortunes we have undertaken to portray.

The unfortunate Spikeman, unable to suppress his groans at the pain occasioned by the motions of his bearers—­his clothing saturated with blood, which kept oozing from the orifices of the wound—­was borne to his dwelling, and delivered to the weeping household.  It would be absurd to suppose that any great grief was felt by Dame Spikeman, and hers was partly the feeling arising from early associations and long familiarity; but it is impossible for the most stoical to contemplate, without emotion, one in the condition of the suffering man, and the tears of Eveline and of Prudence were mingled with those of the dame.

It happened that Dr. Samuel Fuller, of the Plymouth colony, who had come over with the first Pilgrims was in Boston at the time.  He was immediately brought to the wounded man, and was soon followed by Governor Winthrop, Mr. Eliot, and other friends.  The corselet had been removed, and a portion of the clothing cut away, and Spikeman lay on his side, spasmodically breathing.  Yet had resolution not entirely deserted him.  His strong character still spoke in his face, and he looked like one who, though conquered, was not subdued.