were worthy of consideration. For the first time David found reason to fear that the dismal prophecies of Obid Dawkin might come true. He determined to tell his father of Tanopet’s talk when he returned.
But when David reached the house, he found only Obid there, preparing supper.
“Master Lindall will not be back until the morrow,” explained Obid. “He and Master Vernham have gone to Boston with four Indians that we made prisoners of, and who, I pray, will be hung to the gallows-tree.”
“Prisoners!” exclaimed David. “Mean you that there has been fighting, then?”
“Fighting? Nay, the infidels had no stomach for fighting. They surrendered themselves readily enough, I promise, when they saw in what force we had come. But some had already gone away, doubtless having warning of our intention, and only a handful were there when we reached their village. Squaws and children mostly, they were, and there was great howling and dismay when we burned the wigwams.”
“But is it known, Obid, that it was indeed they who did the mischief to Master Vernham’s place?”
“Well enough, Master David. They made
