of a rising tide could be heard. Fog obliterated the islands, and a
bleak gray twilight, like the twilights of winter, began to dim the
woods.

"The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they
came in sight of the fort.

Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the
chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls.

"What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired.

"He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true
wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men."

"The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself."

"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman,
glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of
the sugar-making to-night."

"Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's
daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of
the sugar-making that your mind is set on."

"My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides,
I am very tired."

"Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband
and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my