“Master Maverick and his son, Master Blackstone from Shawmut, and Master Bursley and Master Jeffries from Wessagussett,” reported Bart Allerton, hat in hand, at the governor’s door, and Bradford, laying down his book, replied with a grave smile,-- “I will go to meet them.” Half an hour later the three elder visitors with the governor, the captain, Allerton, Doctor Fuller, and one or two more, were closeted in the new room recently added to the governor’s house, and used by him as a council chamber and court room. Moses Maverick, the handsome young boatman, had meanwhile somewhat pointedly sought out Bart Allerton, and almost invited himself to accompany him home. “Go you into the front room and entertain him, Remember,” directed the young step-mother with a mischievous smile. “I am too busy with little Isaac to leave him just now.” And Maverick received the apologies of his hostess with an air so strangely contented that Remember paused half way in making them, and faltered and blushed and laughed, very much as a modest but open-eyed girl would do to-day. “I told you last Lady Day that I should soon be here again, Remember,” murmured the youth rather irrelevantly. “I know naught of Lady Days,” retorted the Pilgrim maid with an effort at a saucy little laugh. “’Tis because your father is a Separatist, but we Mavericks are sound Churchmen,” replied the lover. “Some day, mayhap, you’ll be better advised.” Let us discreetly leave them to themselves, and seek the council chamber where Blackstone is saying,-- “Yes, Governor Bradford, we have come to you for that aid and support against the common foe which all Christians have a right to demand of each other, no matter how the forms of their Christianity may disagree.” “The plea is one never disallowed by the men of Plymouth,” returned Bradford in his sonorous voice. “But what would you have us to do?” “Why, to capture this Morton by force of arms, since words have no effect, and ship him back to England, where they say there is a warrant out against him for murder of some man in the west country with whom he had business concerns.” “That were a high-handed proceeding, specially sith his settlement is not within the domain of Plymouth,” suggested the Elder cautiously. “True,” broke in Bursley impetuously. “But as Master Blackstone has told you, Morton sells pieces and ammunition and rum to the savages without let or stint, and they, having naught else to do, practice at a mark all day long, and soon will prove better shots than any white man. Then, when some new Wituwamat or Pecksuot shall arise to stir them to revolt, where shall we be? You had not won so easy a triumph there where I live, Captain Standish, had your foes been armed with snaphances.” “Not so easy, perhaps, but to my mind more honorable,” replied Standish coldly. “Howbeit, I do not approve of arming the Indians.”