“Say you so, Captain,” replied Gardiner faintly. “’Tis but another proof that a man seldom knows his best friends; but why do the Bay people seek my life?” “That is best known to yourself, sir,” began Bradford somewhat severely; but Priscilla Alden interposed,-- “I pray your pardon, Master Bradford, but this man needs care and tendance rather than catechizing just now. Look but at those arms and hands!” “Ay, look!” exclaimed Gardiner, holding up his arms, yet forced at once to drop them through pain. Bradford and Standish stared in amazement, for through the tattered and stripped sleeves of the knight’s doublet and fine Hollands shirt could be seen many and cruel weals as of stripes, some of them still bleeding, others crusted with dry blood, and others lividly bruised. The hands were in even yet more pitiable case, discolored, swollen, and cut so that they hardly looked like hands at all. “What is this? What has chanced to your hands and arms, sir?” demanded the governor. “Ask those red devils there,” replied Sir Christopher bitterly. “And let me ask if it was not done by your own orders.” “By my orders! Never, so help me God!” cried Bradford; and then turning upon the Indians he demanded,-- “Is this your work, Weetonawah, or is it the Shawmut’s? Did I not warn you both to bring in the man with all care and humane tenderness?” The Indians looked at each other, drew their skin mantles closer about them as if in assertion of their own dignity, and finally uttered a few words which Standish as briefly translated:-- “They say they did but a little whip him with sticks, and it is no harm.” “But why did they whip him, little or much?” “My faith! they could never have taken me alive, had not they beat my last weapon out of my hands,” broke in the knight. “When they are gone and I am a little refreshed I will tell you the whole story, gentlemen; but if you indeed wish me well, drive away these assassins and leave me to this comely matron’s tendance for a while, at least.” “’Tis well spoken,” replied the governor in his usual placable voice. “John Alden, will it suit you to keep this man over-night, if no longer, and will you, Priscilla, give him the care he needs and you so well understand?” “If the goodwife says yes, I’ll not say no,” declared Alden; and Priscilla added a little sharply,-- “’Tis the best word said yet.” CHAPTER XV. AND DESCRIBES IT. Not until the next afternoon did Priscilla Alden allow her husband to report the patient ready to receive the visitors who awaited her summons, but when the governor, the captain, the Elder, and the doctor were finally admitted they found him a very different looking person from the captive driven into town by the Indians, who had already been paid their reward and dismissed.