believed
to have had its origin in the express "purpose of throwing off
dependence on England."

Friends of the colonies denied the reports and assured the king that New
England was loyal; but despite the fact of their assertions, Whalley and
Goffe were still at large.

Even when their pursuers were close on their trail, Goffe, with a daring
that was reckless, frequently appeared in Boston, usually in disguise.
Long sojourn in rocks and caves had given him a natural disguise, in the
long, snowy hair and beard.

It was on one of his daring visits to Boston, that he met and conquered
the fencing-master as narrated in the opening of this chapter. Having
humbled the boaster, the man with the cheese and mop descended from the
platform, threw away his weapons and advanced toward the youth who had
been an amazed spectator of the scene.

"Good morrow, friend. Do you belong here?" he asked, taking his hand.

"No, sir, I just came in on the vessel."

"Whom do you wish to see?"

"Some relatives named Stevens."

"Is your name Stevens?"

"It is, sir."

"And you are from Virginia?" the old man asked.

"Verily, you have guessed it, sir. Who may you be?"

Without answering him, the strange swordsman seized his arm, saying:

"Come with me; I am going to the house of Mathew Stevens. What is your
father's name?"

"John Stevens was his name; but he is dead. He went on a voyage and was
lost at sea when I was quite young."

"And your grandfather was--"

"Philip Stevens, the friend of Captain John Smith."

"I know of him. We will go to the home of your relatives." He led Robert
over the hill toward a neat looking house, one of the best in Boston.
The old man was nervous and frequently halted to look about, as if
expecting pursuit.

"Surely you have no one to fear?" said Robert.

"Whom should I fear--the man whose face I plastered with mud? I carry a
sword at my side, and he could not fight me in a single combat."

"But he said something. He called you a name."

"What name?"

"Goffe."

"What know you of Goffe, pray?"

"I have heard of him. My mother's husband frequently spoke of him as a
regicide."

The swordsman gazed on him for a moment, and asked:

"Do you know what a regicide is?"

"A king-killer."

"Well, my young cavalier, when a king has been convicted of treason,
should he not suffer death as the humblest peasant in the land?"

"He should," cried Robert, on whose republican soul the argument fel