make her conversion the means of extending among the tribes the superstitions of Popery.  The success of the plan was fraught with danger to the colony, for the new religion would be a means of reconciling the differences of the tribes, and binding them together, in a common union with the Eastern Indians, already much under the influence of the Romish priests.  Favored secretly or openly by the French government, which they were sure to be, and supplied with fire-arms, they might become too powerful to be resisted, and, reversing the campaign of the Israelites in the wilderness, drive out those who had intruded into their Canaan, only themselves to fall finally a prey to the French, and to have one form of idolatry substituted for another.  Sternly frowned Dudley, and grimly stroked Endicott his tufted chin, as they revolved such thoughts, and inly vowed, as they trusted in the God of Jacob, that such things should not be.  The conclusion to which the council came, was that the Pequot and the woman should be detained in custody until the Knight was taken, whose capture they considered not difficult, and that then the fate of the three should be decided.

As for Samoset, he sought Arundel at the earliest opportunity when he could do so unnoticed, and acquainted him with the message of the chief.  With this coadjutor it was easy to establish a communication with his friends in the forest, the consequences of which will presently be seen.

CHAPTER XXXI.

  The waithman goode of Silverwoode,
    That bowman stout and hende,
  In donjon gloom abides his doom—­
    God dele him gentil ende.

  It breaks true herte to see him stert,
    When as the small birds sing,
  And then to hear his sighynges drere,
    Whereas his fetters ring.

  OLD BALLAD.

In order to secure the person of the Knight of the Golden Melice, several small parties were dispatched to scour the forest—­another object being to protect the remoter colonists against wandering Taranteens, should any have the temerity to venture near the settlement.  A reward was offered to the Indians for the apprehension of Sir Christopher—­strict injunctions being given that he should be taken alive.  An increased vigilance also was exercised over the rude prison wherein the captives were confined—­a soldier being kept constantly on guard before its entrance.

On the plot in front the sentry was pacing his round on a night which was dark and threatening.  No rain had fallen, but the clouds were constantly becoming denser, and it was plain that a storm might soon be expected.  With the wind rose also the voice of the ocean, murmuring along the curving shores of the bay, distinctly heard in the silence of the night by the solitary soldier, whose thoughts it carried back to the sea-beaten island he had left.

“An’ my guns deceive me not,” he said to himself, “it should be past midnight.  There is no moon, nor star, to be sure, to tell by, but I have mounted guard before, and my feelings let me know as surely as a dial what’s the hour.  Hark! (as a measured step was heard approaching) that must be Cowlson.  Stand,” he cried, “and give the countersign!”