With the air of one born to command, he hastily formed the band of villagers into military array, displaying such skill and ardor that their temporary fright vanished, to be succeeded by courage and confidence.  Had not the Almighty sent this venerable stranger to their aid?  Should they fear when led by God’s messenger?

“Now, upon them!” cried their mysterious leader.  “We must have the advantage of the assault!”

Putting himself at their head, he led them on with an ardor remarkable in one of his years.  The savages, who had been swarming together preparatory to an attack, beheld with surprise this orderly rush forward of the villagers, and shrunk from their death-dealing and regular volleys.  And the white-haired form who led their foes with such fearless audacity struck terror to their superstitious souls, filling them with dread and dismay.

The struggle that followed was short and decisive.  Animated by the voice and example of their leader, the small band attacked their savage enemies with such vigor and show of discipline that in very few minutes the Indians were in full flight for the wilderness, leaving a considerable number of dead upon the ground.  Of the villagers only two or three had fallen.

The grateful people, when the turmoil and confusion of the affray were over, turned to thank their venerable leader for his invaluable aid.  To their surprise he was nowhere to be seen.  He had vanished in the same mysterious manner as he had appeared.  They looked at one another in bewilderment.  What did this strange event signify?  Had God really sent one of his angels from heaven, in response to their prayers, to rescue them from destruction?  Such was the conclusion to which some of the people came, while the most of them believed that there was some miracle concerned in their strange preservation.

This interesting story, which tradition has preserved in the form here given, has a no less interesting sequel.  We know, what most of the villagers never knew, who their preserver was, and how it happened that he came so opportunely to their rescue.  To complete our narrative we must go back years in time, to the date of 1649, the year of the execution of Charles I. of England.

Fifty-nine signatures had been affixed to the death-warrant of this royal criminal.  A number of the signers afterwards paid the penalty of that day’s work on the scaffold.  We are concerned here only with two of them, Generals Whalley and Goffe, who, after the death of Cromwell and the return of Charles II., fled for safety to New England, knowing well what would be their fate if found in their mother-land.  A third of the regicides, Colonel Dixwell, afterwards joined them in America, but his story is void of the romance which surrounded that of his associates.