The war was kept for a time within the Plymouth colony. Rhode Island tried to keep out of it, but could not. Several settlers were killed at Tiverton, and a number of buildings were burned on the outskirts of Providence. In the middle of July, Captain Hutchinson entered the Narragansett country with an armed force, and made a treaty of peace with that tribe. This cut off one of the strongest supports on which Philip had counted, but did not check his ardor. Being hard pressed at Pocasset, he and his son took refuge in a swamp. The whites decided to surround it and starve him out with his followers. They hurriedly enclosed the place on every side, only to learn after a time that the chief and nearly all his men had stolen out in the darkness and got away. Finding that they had gone to the country of the Nipmucks, Captain Hutchinson, at the head of a company of horse, hurried thither to prevent their joining Philip. But the chief had already won them over, as they had shown by killing five people at Mendon. Hutchinson fell into an ambuscade and lost sixteen of his men, the leader being among the killed. The survivors hurried to Brookfield and warned the people of their danger. They were about a hundred in number, and knowing the Indians would soon come, they swarmed into the only stone structure in the place, carrying with them a few such articles as they could snatch up, and taking no time to add to the slight stock of provisions already stored there. Hardly had they crowded the refuge when the whooping warriors dashed into the settlement, firing their rifles, and using the torch with a vigor that soon set every building in flames except the fort itself. All this destruction, however, could avail nothing so long as the people themselves were not reached. Unless the roof of the stone structure was fired, the defenders were safe, and were sure to fight to the last. Could they have been certain of mercy, they would have surrendered, but every one knew what fate awaited him, if the hostiles once gained the upper hand. The grim pioneers were on the alert at every window and loophole, and the first warrior who tried to steal forward, torch in hand, was riddled by the deadly marksman. By and by, the attempt was repeated with more caution, but the dusky miscreant could not get near enough without showing himself for an instant, and that instant was his last. Then the Indians grew more careful in their movements. [Illustration: THE INDIAN'S CUNNING In the hunt for game or in an attack upon an enemy the Indian always has been noted for his cunning. Crouching on a limb of a forest tree he waits, without the slightest movement, for hours the approach of his game or enemy and picks him off with unerring aim when his victim least suspects the nearness of danger.]