Scouts, dispatched in many directions, returned with the tidings that the country was free of the enemy for six miles around. The Wachoosett village had been abandoned and so with all other camps thereabouts, and it was believed that Philip and his cohorts were heading westward.
Two days later a party of eight set forth toward the east. Of these were Nathan Lindall, David, Obid (still, to his wonderment, possessed of his scalp), and Monapikot. With but one alarm and no encounter with the enemy, they reached safety three days later, and near the close of a warm August day David again crossed the threshold of his home. That evening, in a new and pleasant feeling of security, for King Philip’s warriors had thus far given the more settled country about Boston a wide berth, David sat and listened, for the most part in contented silence, to the talk of his father and Monapikot the Pegan. Now and then, Obid, busy with his duties about the house, paused to add his shrill voice to the converse. They spoke of the war, that for many months longer was destined to keep the colonists in uncertainty and terror, and it was Monapikot rather than Nathan Lindall who spoke hope-
