gone near to forget that God had made birds. On some days, from the south,
came the breathing of soft, fragrant airs; and there were breadths of blue
in the sky that looked as if so fresh and tender a hue must have been just
created.

The men, in thick jerkins, heavy boots, and sugarloaf hats, were busy
about the clearing; some, like Miles Standish, wore a steel plate over
their breasts, and kept their matchlocks within reach, for though a
pestilence had exterminated the local Indians before they came, and, with
the exception of one momentary skirmish, in which no harm was done,
nothing had been seen or heard of the red men--still it was known that
Indians existed, and it was taken for granted that they would be hostile.
Meanwhile the women, in homespun frocks and jackets, with kerchiefs round
their shoulders, and faces in which some trace of the English ruddiness
had begun to return, sat spinning in the doorways of the huts, keeping an
eye on the kettles of Indian meal. The morning sunlight fell upon a scene
which, for the first time, seemed homelike: not like the lost homes in
England, but a place people could live human lives in, and grow fond of.
The hope of spring was with them.

All at once, down the forest glade, treading noiselessly on moccasined
feet, came a tall, wild, unfamiliar figure, with feathers in his black
hair, and black eyes gleaming above his high cheekbones. An Indian, at
last! He had come so silently that he had emerged from the shadow of the
forest and was almost amid them before he was seen. Some of the settlers,
perhaps, felt a momentary tightening round the heart; for though we are
always in the hollow of God's hand, there are times when we are surprised
into forgetfulness of that security, and are concerned about carnal
perils. Captain Standish, who had taken a flying shot at some of these
heathen four or five months ago, caught up a loaded musket leaning against