A volley of abuse from Oldhame was interrupted by a messenger from Bradford, who, saluting the captain, reported,-- “The governor sends to know the cause of the tumult, and desires Captain Standish to arrest any disorderly persons refusing to submit to authority.” “My respects to the governor, and I am about to do so,” replied Standish in the hard and cold tone which at once repressed and betrayed his passion. “John Oldhame, I arrest you in the name of the law! Alden, Howland, Browne, I summon you to my aid! Convey this man to the Fort and lock him in the strong-room. Do him no bodily harm unless he resist, but secure him without delay.” Then ensued such a scene as Plymouth had as yet never seen, for with one or two exceptions the men who shared the struggles and perils of the colony’s first days had become too closely welded together, and were too self-respecting, to rebel against the authority they had themselves elected. But no sooner were the goodly foundations of the new home laid and cemented in the blood of those who dared all for Freedom’s sake, than the anarchist arrived to throw down what was already wrought, and erect his own den upon the ruins. Oldhame, maddened both at his defeat and the failure of those who had listened to his treason to make an open revolt in his favor, lost all control both of words and actions, and so ramped and raved, so cursed and vituperated, so kicked and smote and struggled, that it was not without a most unseemly contest that he was finally secured and dragged up the Burying Hill to the Fort, where in the corner opposite to the captain’s den was a strong-room, small, but as yet quite sufficient for the colony’s need of a prison. A few hours of silence and solitude wrought a change, however, and John Alden, who held the position of prison-warden, came down the hill toward sunset with a request from the prisoner that he might see Master Lyford. “The wolf would fain take counsel with the fox,” remarked Priscilla when her husband told her his errand. “And our over-amiable sheep-dogs will never say nay to such a modest request.” “Pity but they made thee governor, Pris,” suggested John with a bovine smile intended to be sarcastical. “Ay,” coolly replied his wife. “’Twould save some trouble. ’Tis a roundabout way we women have to manage now.” “Eh? what do all those fine words mean when they’re put straight, wife?” “They mean that you’d better do your errand to the governor before sunset, and then come home to eat my bannocks while they’re fresh.” “You’re right, Pris, and I’m gone.” But the bannocks were not to be eaten for another hour or so, during which time Master Lyford was closeted with his associate in the strong-room, and Alden kept ward without.