were he minded to, and whether Philip means well or ill we shall be the better for knowing. So certain are some of the settlers to the south that war is brewing, according to your Uncle William—with whom I spent the night in Boston—that they even hesitate to plant their fields this spring. Much foolish and ungodly talk there is of strange portents, too, with which I have no patience. Well, we shall see what we shall see, my son, and meanwhile there is work to be done. Did you finish the south field?”
“Yes, father. The soil is yet too wet for good ploughing save on the higher places. What of the Indians you took to Boston, sir? Obid prays that they be hung, but I do not, since it seems to me that none has proven their guilt.”
“They will be justly tried, David. If deemed guilty they will doubtless be sold for slaves. A harsher punishment would be fitter, I think, for this is no time to quibble. Stern measures alone have weight with the Indians, so long as Justice dictates them. Now be off to your duties ere it be too dark.”
