and Myles snatching off his barret-cap
pushed up the hair from his suddenly heated and burning forehead.
Bradford looked at him with his peculiar smile of subtle humor and
shrewd kindliness.

"Why, Myles, thou lookst fairly frightened! Thou who never counted the
foe, or thought twice ere leading a forlorn hope, or asked quarter of
Turk or Spaniard"--

"Nay, nay, nay, Will, spare thy gibes! Here is a moil, here is an
ambushment! Here am I, going fair and softly on mine own way, and of a
sudden the trap is sprung, and Honor starts up and cries, 'There's but
one way out of it, take it, willy-nilly!' If the maid is of her father's
mind I am bound to her."

"I think she would not say thee nay," said Bradford demurely.

"Thou hast no right to avow that, Will, and I were but a sorry knave to
believe it. A lady's yea-say is an honor to any man, and he who receives
it must do so in all reverence. No man hath a right to fancy or to say
that a modest maid is ready with yea or nay before she is asked."

"Thou art right, and I wrong, Myles, and in truth I know naught of
Mistress Priscilla's mind."

"But I will, and that ere many days are past. Thou hast done me a good
turn, Will, in showing me where I stand. I dreamed not that Molines
was--well,--he died peacefully and I will not disturb his rest. Yes, I
will but wait until the Mayflower is gone and my cabin weather-tight,
and the garden sown, and then I will speak with Priscilla. If Barbara
comes she'll be rare good company for both of us."

Again Bradford smiled very quietly, and the two men walked on in
silence.

CHAPTER XV.

SAMOSET.

Once more the freemen of the colony were convened in Council around the
well-scoured table in the principal room of the Common house, become for
the nonce a House of Commons, and Captain Standish was explaining the
scheme he had arranged for organizing his little army, when again the
solemnity of the meeting was invaded by shrill cries of alarm and anger,
this time, however, in a solo rather than chorus, for goodwife
Billington having taken the field, her more timid sisters were abashed
into silence.

"Thou foul beast, I say begone! Scat! Avaunt! Nay, grin not at me thou
devil straight from hell! Wait but till I fetch a bucket of boiling
water to throw over thee, thou Cheshire cat! I'll soon see how much of
thy nasty color is fast dye"--

"What means this unseemly brawling?" sternly demanded Elder Brewster as
Standish ceas