stantly
restored the commander to his wonted resolution and firmness. He called
on his men to be ready, and not to allow one of the Chiefs to escape
from the wigwam, and with his hand on his pistols, he waited the proper
moment for action. The Indians continued to pour forth the most abusive
epithets: but they did not begin the expected attack, and it was
evident that they were a little intimidated by the undaunted bearing of
the white men. One of them, however, seemed actuated by some desperate
purpose, and to be regardless of aught else. From the moment of his
entrance into the wigwam, his eyes had sought some object that they did
not find: and now, in all the excitement of the approaching conflict,
his only aim seemed to be to make his way through the entrance in
search of some person on whom he desired to wreak his fury. It was
Rodolph whom Coubitant sought, and who was now, providentially, out of
his reach, and waiting the result of the deed against which he had
vainly protested.

At length the wrath of Standish broke loose. He gave the appointed
signal, and the door was closed--shutting in friends and foes in one
small field of battle, or, rather, of carnage. The scene in the dimly-
lighted wigwam was terrific; and the yells of the infuriated natives
broke, with a sickening effect, on the ears of Rodolph Maitland, who
could not consent to share in what he considered a murderous conflict,
and not an honorable war; and who yet felt as if he was deserting his
countrymen, by thus remaining inactive.

But if he felt undecided as to his proper course of action, that
indecision did not last long. In a few moments the door of the wigwam
was violently burst open, and the combatants rushed out, struggling and
bleeding, from the den of slaughter. All the white men came forth, for,
though many of them were wounded, not one had fallen. But three of the
Indians lay dead and dying on the floor of the hut; one of them being
the mangled body of Wattawamat, who was slain by Standish with his own
knife--that very knife which the savage had sharpened for the purpose
of plunging it into the heart of the white chief!

Where was Rodolph now? In the midst of the fray, fighting desperately
and successfully. The moment he saw the battle raging in open field,
and beheld the blood flowing from the wounds of his countrymen, he
forgot all else except that his strong right arm wielded a trusty
blade; and its skilful stroke soon brought anoth