with bitter execrations and reproaches, they saw the
Mohawks turn back on their warpath. The diminished army pressed on to
Nickisipigue, in the expectation of meeting, agreeably to their promise,
the Norridgewock and Penobscot Indians. They found the place deserted,
and, after waiting for some days, were forced to the conclusion that the
Eastern tribes had broken their pledge of cooperation. Under these
circumstances a council was held; and the original design of the
expedition, namely, the destruction of the whole line of frontier towns,
beginning with Portsmouth, was abandoned. They had still a sufficient
force for the surprise of a single settlement; and Haverhill, on the
Merrimac, was selected for conquest.

In the mean time, intelligence of the expedition, greatly exaggerated in
point of numbers and object, had reached Boston, and Governor Dudley had
despatched troops to the more exposed out posts of the Provinces of
Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Forty men, under the command of Major
Turner and Captains Price and Gardner, were stationed at Haverhill in the
different garrison-houses. At first a good degree of vigilance was
manifested; but, as days and weeks passed without any alarm, the
inhabitants relapsed into their old habits; and some even began to
believe that the rumored descent of the Indians was only a pretext for
quartering upon them two-score of lazy, rollicking soldiers, who
certainly seemed more expert in making love to their daughters, and
drinking their best ale and cider, than in patrolling the woods or
putting the garrisons into a defensible state. The grain and hay harvest
ended without disturbance; the men worked in their fields, and the women
pursued their household avocations, without any very serious apprehension
of danger.

Among the inhabitants of the village was an eccentric, ne'er-do-well
fellow, named Keezar, who led a wandering, unsettled life, oscillating,
like a crazy pendulum, between Haverhill and Amesbury. He had a
smattering of a variety of trades, was a famous wrestler, and for a mug
of ale would leap over an ox-cart with the unspilled beverage in his
hand. On one occasion, when at supper, his wife complained that she had
no tin dishes; and, as there were none to be obtained nearer than Boston,
he started on foot in the evening, travelled through the woods to the
city, and returned with his ware by sunrise the next morning, passing
over a distance of between sixty and