“Master Oldhame, you are set upon the watch to-night, and will report after the evening gun at the Fort.” “The devil you say, Giles Hopkins! And who gave you leave to order your betters about?” “Captain Standish names the watch, and I as ancient-bearer am under his orders and carry his messages.” “You may be under Satan’s orders or under a monkey’s orders for aught I care, Giles, my boy, but if you dare come nigh me with any more of Captain Shrimp’s orders I’ll wring your neck for you, master bantam cockerel, mark you that.” “I will report to the captain,” calmly replied Hopkins, who, despite his father’s restless example, was fast becoming one of the colony’s most valued young citizens. A profane exclamation was Oldhame’s only reply, but as the ensign strode away he turned his head and called into the house at whose door he sat,-- “Lyford! Lyford! Here’s some merry-making afoot! Captain Shrimp has summoned me to stand on watch to-night, and I have sent him and his errand-boy to the devil. Aha! here he comes himself with fury stiffening every hair of his red beard and snapping out of his eyes. Stand behind the door and hearken”-- “Good-even, Master Oldhame,” struck in the firm and repressed tones of a voice at sound of which Lyford cringed closer in his corner, and Oldhame blustered uneasily,-- “Good-even, Myles Standish.” “It is your turn in regular rotation, Master Oldhame, to stand sentry-watch to-night as you have done before, and as every man in the colony is called upon to do. Will you kindly report at the Fort after gun-fire this evening?” “No, I won’t, Captain Shrimp.” “You refuse to obey the law of the colony?” “I refuse to be said by you, you beggarly little rascal.” “Then I shall arrest you as a traitor, and if I had my will, I’d have you out and shoot you at sunrise.” “Oh, you would, would you, you wretched baseborn-- “Have a care, man, have a care. Stop while you may!” And the captain’s voice deepened to a growl, and his eyes, wide open, yet contracted in the pupil to a point of fire, fixed themselves like weapons upon those of the mutineer, who, maddened by their menace, sprung to his feet knife in hand, and aimed a blow at the captain’s face that might have forever quenched the light of those magnetic eyes, had it not been caught on the hilt of Gideon, the good sword that in these days hung ever at his master’s side, although he seldom needed to quit his scabbard. “Villain, you’ve broken my wrist!” yelled Oldhame, dropping his knife, upon which Standish planted his foot. “To me! To me, men! Help! Murder! To me, Oldhames!” again shouted the traitor, but although a score or so of the townsmen gathered at the cry, not one made any demonstration or reply, while Standish, setting his lips and drawing two or three heavy breaths, hardly cast a glance at the crowd, but laying a hand upon Gideon’s hilt coldly demanded,-- “John Oldhame, do you refuse to stand your watch to-night?”