CHAPTER IX

MASTER HOPKINS'S GUEST

"'In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder, In Wakefield all on a green, In Wakefield all on a green,--'

THERE, there, Damaris! Hushaby, hushaby! Go to sleep, like a good lass."

Damaris gurgled at Miles with a provokingly wide-awake crow. "I never saw such a bad baby," sighed the little boy. "Do go to sleep, honey.

"'In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,--'"

"Oh, Miles," laughed Constance Hopkins, who, standing at the rude table, was scouring the biggest kettle, "you have sung that half a score of times. Is there no other song you know?"

"It is no time for the child to sleep now," interrupted Mistress Hopkins. "I'll wrap her up, and, since 'tis so mild a morning, you may take her forth into the air."

"O dear!" thought Miles, "I'm a man, not a nurse." He never considered that it was any kindness on his new guardians' part when, instead of putting him to heavy outdoor tasks, they set him to minding the baby and helping about the house. "Like a girl," Miles told himself, with an indignant sniff. It was not two weeks since he left the sick-house, and his legs were still a little uncertain, but he was sure he was fit to work again, or, at any rate, fit to run away and play with the other boys.

But he took the baby now and walked forth meekly, because he lived in some dread of Mistress Elizabeth Hopkins. She was a thin-lipped, energetic young woman, who mended Miles's clothes scrupulously, and, with equal conscientiousness, boxed his ears whenever he tracked dirt on her clean floors. Her sharp tongue, though, he feared more than her hands, for Mistress Hopkins scolded at everything and everybody; indeed, the only members of the household whom her words never troubled were Oceanus, who was so young he just blinked his eyes when she talked, and Master Hopkins, on whom people's fretting had as much effect as it would have had upon the great rock at the landing place.

After all, Miles was rather glad to get out into the air, away from the living room, where Mistress Hopkins was already chiding Constance. The morning was fair and warm, with no wind stirring, and the harbor sparkled invitingly, so, shouldering the unwelcome Damaris, he started happily to the shore.

But his contentment speedily had an end, for, not halfway to the landing, he was overtaken by Francis Billington, Jack Cooke, and Joe Rogers, who at once addressed him in disrespectful wise. "Ho, Miles, that's brave work, tending a baby," jeered Francis.

"You meddle with your own matters," Miles replied sulkily.

"Come with us, Miles," Jack put in pacifically. "We're going along shore to the first brook--"

"We do not want a baby with us," Joe interrupted.

"_You_ might stay with me, Jack," Miles pleaded, as the others turned away.

Jack, a freckled little fellow with merry eyes, dug the heel of his shoe into the dirt. "The other lads will be having sport," he said half-heartedly.

"Then go with them," cried Miles. "Only you were very fain to play with me on shipboard."

Even this last thrust failed; Jack ran after the others down the hill, and Miles, feeling cross and ill-treated, was left to himself.

'Twould look too much as if he were following his ungracious friends if he went on to the landing, so he turned back to Elder Brewster's house. There Priscilla Mullins, a girl orphaned by the winter's sickness, who, because she was eighteen, was classed by Miles as a woman, was sweeping the doorstone with a broom of birch twigs. She paused in the labor teasingly to throw him a kiss, and tell him his busy sister and the lads were cooking by the brookside.

Sure enough, in the level space between the base of the bluff on which the cottage stood and the cove, Miles found Dolly, and Dolly's poppet Priscilla, and Love, and Wrestling, and Solomon, and Trug, who was not admitted to Mistress Hopkins's house because his great paws dirtied her floor,--all busied in making delectable pies of mud.

But when Miles joined them, Love withdrew from the mud-pie game, and wished to play at holding a council, such as his father and all the men were holding that morning in the Common House to regulate the military affairs of the colony. Dolly insisted that she should be allowed to come to the council too, for all Love urged that women never were invited thither, and the argument was growing bitter, when an unwonted tumult in the village street drew Miles's attention. A confused sort of calling and shrill shouting it seemed, that made his heart quicken between curiosity and alarm; so, snatching up Damaris, he scaled the bluff, while the rest of the children scrambled close behind him.

On the doorstone Mistress Brewster and Priscilla were gazing in silent wonder toward the street, and, looking thither too, Miles saw a man stalk past to the landing, very deliberately, as if he knew the place and held he had the right to come there. It was no one of the settlers, though, but a great, half-naked fellow with a coppery face--an Indian.

Dolly and Wrestling clutched Mistress Brewster's skirts, the little boy fairly crying, and Miles himself, it must be owned, held Damaris fast and drew a step nearer the doorstone. But next moment he noted the Indian carried for weapons only a bow and two arrows, with which he could not kill all the settlement, and, moreover, at his heels tagged venturously Giles Hopkins and several of the other boys, and even Goodwife Billington, very clamorous, and the Governor's serving maid.

So Miles, not to be outdone by a petticoat, swaggered into the roadway and joined himself to the little group of curious folk, who, always ready to flee if he should turn on them, followed close at the savage's heels, down the steep hill, past Peter Browne's cottage, even to the door of the Common House.

The noise in the street had already disturbed the men at their conference, and they came flocking forth at the door, the Governor, the Elder, and the Captain, with a score of other stout fighters crowding behind them. But the Indian, never a whit abashed, strode boldly up to them, would even have pressed into the house, had not their ranks barred his passage. Nothing chilled, he halted, and, stretching forth his hands, spoke in a guttural tone: "Welcome."

"Do Indians talk English?" Miles whispered to Giles, who stood beside him. "Hush, hush, Damaris! The black man won't hurt you."

But Damaris, quite unconvinced, clutched Miles tightly round the neck and went on crying lustily, till at last Goodwife Billington seized him by the collar. "Thou good-for-naught lad!" she scolded. "Wilt thou kill the poor babe? Take her back to the house, thou runagate! Ay, ay, let her scream herself ill, so thou mayest gape and gaze. I would I had the up-bringing of thee!"

Some people besides himself liked to gape and gaze, Miles thought, but, without reply, he gathered the wailing Damaris into his arms and trudged slowly up the hill. There, by the Governor's house, it chanced he met with Francis and Jack and Joe, who, scenting something unusual in the village, had hastened back through the fields. "What is it has happened, Miles?" cried Joe.

Miles, glancing over his shoulder, saw with unkind satisfaction that the men had taken the savage into the Common House, out of sight. "'Twas naught," he said airily. "Just a great Indian came into town."

"Did you see him?" urged Francis. "Tell us about it."

"Humph! You've no wish to talk to me when I'm tending a baby," sniffed Miles, and trudged on to Master Hopkins's house, so elate at his triumph that he forgot to be angry with Damaris for dragging him away from the sport.

At the noon meal, indeed, he heard all and more than he could have learned, had he lingered about the door of the Common House, for Ned Lister was bubbling over with talk of the Indian. As Master Hopkins had stayed at the Common House and Dotey had none of his fellow-servant's faculty for gathering news, he proved the only tale-monger of the household; so the whole family harked to him respectfully, and even Mistress Hopkins forgot her usual sarcasms on his galloping tongue.

"This is not a savage from these parts," Ned explained; "he comes from the eastward, from Monhegan, whither the ships out of England go to fish. He has been on shipboard there and so has got a smattering of the English tongue. One Captain Dermer brought him to Cape Cod, and he has been in these parts now some eight months. And he told us a deal of the nations hereabout. This open place where we have settled is called Patuxet. It was a village of the savages once, but three or four years back came a great plague, and all the people died, so now we are undisputed masters of the soil. Next unto us dwell the Massasoits, a tribe of some sixty fighting men; and to the southeast, those savages whom our men gave a brush to on their explorations in December, are the Nausets, near a hundred strong."

Ned paused to secure himself another slice of cold mallard; then started on a new train: "You should 'a' seen the Indian fellow eat. He asked for beer, but we gave him strong water, and biscuit and butter and cheese and pudding, and a piece of mallard thereto, and he liked all very well, and ate right heartily."

"He is not the only idler who looks for a full meal," said Mistress Hopkins scathingly. "Where have they put the vile creature now?"

"Vile creature, mistress?" Ned repeated. "Sure, he says that in his own country he is a great lord of land, a Sagamore--"

"I would he were back in his own country," Mistress Hopkins answered sharply. "The murderous wretch! I shall not draw a breath in peace till he be hence. Here, Ned, 'tis little enough work you'll do if you go forth, do you stay this afternoon in the house to protect us."

There was an instant of disappointed silence on Lister's part, then, "'Tis you she means, Ned Dotey," he cried, and, without staying to take his cap, bolted out at the door.

Nor was this the only desertion which Mistress Hopkins suffered; for, at their first opportunity, Dotey and Giles also slipped away, and Miles stayed behind only because he was so little that the mistress shook him when he attempted to follow. But speedily he had a bright thought, and asked Mistress Hopkins if perhaps, since she was afraid of the Indian, she would not like him to fetch Trug to the house to guard them.

Thus Miles was allowed, at last, to bring his dog home, and so grateful was he, that he remained patiently tending Damaris all the long afternoon. He found a certain enjoyment in his position, however; he was sole man in the cottage, and he wondered, should other Indians follow this first one, if Mistress Hopkins wouldn't let him take one of the muskets and fight for her. When it came dark at last, he knowingly inspected the fastenings of the door, and told Constance not to be afraid; he and Trug could defend them.

Poor Constance needed more comfort than that, for she was in a sorry fright. Her hands shook as she laid the table, and, when a step sounded crisply in the dooryard, she gave a nervous cry and dropped the pile of trenchers. It was only Ned Lister, however, who stamped in, bareheaded and whistling cheerfully.

"You have come back, then, since 'tis suppertime?" Mistress Hopkins greeted him sarcastically.

"Nay, I'm not hungry," Ned answered, as he sauntered over to the fire where Miles sat with Damaris, "'tis that the master sent me ahead to bid you make ready the guest chamber and the bed of state. Our Indian lord there, the Sagamore Samoset, is to lodge here to-night."

For a moment Mistress Hopkins looked at the speaker in dumb amazement. "If Master Hopkins does not punish you roundly for such a lie, Edward Lister," she said at last, deliberately, "it will not be for want of my urging him."

"It's the truth, though," Ned answered indifferently.

"O me!" Constance cried, with a sudden nervous wail, "I know we'll all be slain ere daybreak. O dear!" She turned to run into the bedroom, when Lister caught her by the arm. "Don't cry, Constance," he urged; "there's no need to fear. Captain Standish and some of the others are coming hither to spend the night and keep watch. You'll be safe enough."

But the girl, breaking from him, vanished into the chamber, whither Mistress Hopkins, snatching up Damaris, followed her; so, for some moments, Miles was free to ask questions and Ned to answer, as it liked them best. But, so soon as Master Hopkins's deliberate step sounded on the doorstone, Mistress Hopkins came forth and, as he entered the living room, confronted him: "Is that savage to be lodged here to-night, Stephen? Among us, where my children are?"

"He must go somewhere, Elizabeth," the master of the house replied unruffled. "He is set to stay among us for the night, and the tide is out so we may not convey him on shipboard. We can lodge him in the little closet next our chamber."

"He shall not come into the house!" said Mistress Hopkins, with her thin lips set.

"Edward Lister, do you spread out the bed within the closet," Master Hopkins went on unheedingly.

With a wink at Miles, Ned crossed the room in unusual haste, and Miles, taking a candle, followed after into the closet, a tiny room with one black window, where stood an old chest and a hogshead and a rolled-up mattress, which Ned began leisurely to spread out. "What think you, Miles?" he whispered, as the boy closed the door behind him. "It's good there is one person in the house whom the dame cannot rattle off as she list, eh?"

Miles nodded vaguely, his attention all fixed on the least details of the commonplace room which now had a fearful interest from the guest it was to shelter. The thought of the savage stranger filled the place with such awesome fancies that he could not help going out from it very hastily ahead of Lister, who grumbled a little that Miles was so speedy to be off with the candle.

Once in the bright living room, however, he became very brave indeed, and wondered to Giles Hopkins when the Sagamore Samoset would come. His mood grew the bolder when the elder lad showed him a dirk knife he had placed under his doublet. "For there's no being sure with these treacherous savages," Giles said seriously.

But when the Sagamore came at last, the boys found that the Hopkins household would be well guarded, for with him were not only Master Hopkins and Dotey, but big John Alden and Captain Standish. The very sight of the latter reassured Miles, so down he sat on the floor by the hearth, with his arm round Trug, who, as soon as he spied the Indian, bristled the hair on his back and uttered a throaty growl.

Mistress Hopkins and Constance and the two babies kept within the south chamber; but the men by themselves were enough to fill the living room. There were but two stools, besides the form on the hearth and a chest against the wall, so long-legged Giles must curl himself up on the floor by Miles, while Ned Lister set himself upon the table. They bade the Indian be seated on the form by the fire, right over against Miles, who, be sure, stared at him with eyes wide open.

The Sagamore Samoset, he saw, was a tall, straight man, of complexion like an English gypsy, smooth-faced, with coarse black hair that fell to his shoulders behind, but was cut before. Since his coming into the settlement, his English hosts had put upon him a horseman's coat, which he wore with much pride and dignity; indeed, all his gestures and carriage were not only decent, but of a certain stateliness. "Why, he is somewhat like other men," Miles whispered softly to Giles, but Trug grumbled in his throat.

Only one candle was burning in the room, but the firelight cast a flickering brightness on the faces of the men. Captain Standish and Lister and the Indian had lighted pipes of tobacco, and the air was so heavy with the smell of the smoke that Miles half drowsed, but through his drooping eyelids he watched his English comrades, and watched the Indian. Captain Standish was sitting adventurously right on the form beside the Sagamore, and now and again they spoke together. Miles noted that in the Indian's speech came strange words, which the Captain seemed to try to understand, and once or twice the Captain even sought to make use of them himself.

Miles wondered at this, and then his only wonderment was as to whether he had been asleep. The logs on the hearth had broken into red embers; the men had risen up; and, rubbing the heaviness from his eyes, Miles saw Master Hopkins and the Captain usher their Indian guest into the little closet room.

Straightway a certain tension in the company seemed to slacken; Giles rose stiffly from the floor, and Trug put down his head upon his paws, though he still kept one bright, half-opened eye fixed on the door through which the Indian had gone. With a great creaking of the trestles, Ned Lister dismounted from the table. "If he come to kill us," he said in a low tone to Alden, "do you run in and call me so I can have a share in the scuffle." Then, stretching himself mightily, he disappeared into the north bedroom, where the serving men and the boys of the household slept.

"Since you have two others to keep watch with you, Master Hopkins," spoke the Captain, as he took down his hat from the wall, "I'll go walk a turn about the hill. I'll be back ere the half-hour is up."

He had put his hand to the latch, when Miles, on the impulse, sprang to his feet and ran to him. "May I come too, sir?" he whispered.

"You, Miles? Why, you were better in bed. Nay, come if you like."

Out of doors the air was crispy and silent, and pleasant smelling after the smoky atmosphere of the crowded room. Overhead the stars were dense and bright, but below, the lonely little settlement lay in darkness, with never a spark of a candle showing. "How late is it, Captain Standish?" Miles asked, in a hushed voice.

"I should say it was near on to midnight," the other replied, stepping along so briskly that Miles's breath for talking was lost in the effort to keep pace with him.

Up and up they toiled; past Goodman Billington's cottage; past the black cabin where Alden and the Captain lived; and then by the well-trodden path up the sheer hillside, till the planking of the broad platform sounded hollow beneath their feet, and they stood among the guns. The spark in the Captain's pipe gleamed red in the darkness, but Miles could not see the Captain's features; he perceived only that he turned his face from quarter to quarter, and remained longest gazing into the black west, where the ridge of hills ran jagged against the starry sky.

He watched the Captain's movements, but he did not venture to speak till Standish himself broke out: "Well, there'll come no bands to frighten us this night, I take it. We can march home, Miles. We've a fair starlight to make the march under," he added, and, as they stepped from the platform to the yielding turf, lingered an instant to gaze skyward.

"Which is it that is the North Star, sir?" Miles hesitated.

"Why, that one yonder, lad. You know it well."

"I knew 'twas the North Star in England. I knew not if 'twere the same here. It is such a long ways from home."

"It's the same sky, Miles, and the same Heaven, I take it, that we had over us in England."

Miles threw back his head and once more stared up into the sky, that was so vast it made him shrink and feel smaller even than before. He sighed a little, he scarcely knew why, and put his hand on the Captain's sleeve. Standish took Miles's hand in his, and so kept hold on him as they came down from the hill, and in that pressure was something so comforting that Miles was sorry when they reached the door of Master Hopkins's house.

Within was heavy air, and a dull fire, and sleepy faces; Giles had gone to lie down on his bed, and it did not need the Captain's bidding to send Miles blinking after. Once, in the darkness, he was wakened by hearing Lister protest inarticulately that he would rather have his throat cut in his sleep ten times over than rise and watch; and once Miles guessed hazily that some one was shaking him, and he tried to say he was getting up, and in the midst dropped back on his pillow.

At the last the dazzle of warm sunlight on his face, and the rattle, rattle of trenchers, brought him staggering and blinking to his feet. Oh, yes, he remembered; the Sagamore Samoset had been there last night; but he was not afraid of him, especially since 'twas daylight; indeed, he wanted to see him again, so out he rushed into the living room.

"Well, sleepyhead!" Constance laughed at him, and Mistress Hopkins was beginning to scold him because he had not awakened, for all her efforts, till mid-morning, when Ned Lister sauntered in. "His Lordship the Indian is safe departed, Constance," he said consolingly, as he made a slow business of getting an axe from the chimney corner. "They gave him a knife and a bracelet and a ring, and he is gone away content."

"A good riddance, too!" snapped Mistress Hopkins. "And now do you, Edward Lister, fetch two buckets of water and wash out the place where the creature lodged. To bring such heathen under a Christian roof! I hope I never set eyes on another of the coppery wretches again."

Ned shrugged his shoulders and said nothing till his mistress was quite done; then he added meekly: "I misremembered; he said he was coming back again in a night or two, and next time he is going to bring with him a goodly number from the tribe of the Massasoits."