He was honest; but there was one thing that Nipanset, or Tommy Ten Canoes, did fear. It was enchantment. He would have faced torture or death without a word, but everything mysterious filled him with terror. If he had thought that a bush contained a hidden enemy and flintlock, he would have been very brave, but had he thought that the same bush was stirred by a spirit, or was enchanted, he would have run. Tommy Ten Canoes had been friendly to the white people who had settled in Pokanoket. There was a family by the name of Brown, who lived on Cole's River, that he especially liked, and he became a companion of one of the sons named James. The two were so often together that the people used to speak of those who were very intimate as being "as _thick_ as little James Brown and old Tommy Ten Canoes," or rather as "Jemmie Brown" and our young hero of the many birch boats. The two hunted and fished together; they made long journeys together; in fact, they did everything in common, except work. Tommy did not work, at least in the field, while James did at times, when he was not with Tommy. When the Indian war began, King Philip sent word to the Brown family, and also to the Cole family, who lived near them, both of whom had treated him justly and generously, that he would do all in his power to protect them, but that he might not be able to restrain his braves. Tommy Ten Canoes brought a like friendly message to Jemmie Brown. "I will always be true to you," he said; "true as the north wind to the river, the west wind to the sea, and the south wind to the flowers. Nipanset's heart is true to his friends. Our hearts will see each other again." The Indian torch swept the settlements. One of the bravest scouts in these dark scenes was Tommy Ten Canoes. He flew from place to place like the wind, carrying news and spying out the enemy. Tommy grew proud over his title of "Ten Canoes." He felt like ten Tommies. He wore his crown of osprey feathers like a royal king. His ten canoes ferried the painted Indians at night, and carried the chiefs hither and thither. There was a grizzly old Boston Captain, who had done hard service on the sea, named Moseley. He wore a wig, a thing that the Indians had never seen, and of whose use they knew nothing at all. Tommy Ten Canoes had never feared the white man nor the latter's death-dealing weapons. He had never retreated; he had always been found in front of the stealthy bands as they pursued the forest trails. But his courage was at last put to a test of which he had never dreamed.