The approach to this secluded spot was extremely difficult. It was nearly dark when they reached it, and the Indians were preparing their evening meal. A little apart from the others, and within easy reach of the guns of the party, the chief and his son were reclining on the ground. An old squaw was pounding corn in a mortar, the noise of which prevented the discovery of Church’s approach, as he and his companions cautiously lowered themselves from rock to rock. They were preceded by an old Indian and his daughter, whom they had captured, and who, with their baskets at their backs, aided in concealing their approach. By these skilful tactics Church succeeded in placing himself between the chief and the guns, seeing which, Annawan suddenly started up with the cry, “Howoh!” (“I am taken.”) Perceiving that he was surrounded, he made no attempt to escape. After securing the arms, Church sent his Indian scouts among Annawan’s men to tell them that their chief was captured, and that Church with his great army had entrapped them, and would cut them to pieces unless they surrendered. This they accordingly did, and, on the promise of kind treatment, gave up all their arms. This well-executed surprise was the closing event of King Philip’s War. II CORNELIS LABDEN’S LEAP A Legend of 1645 Retold The scene was only thirty miles from New York, on the shores of Long Island Sound. At the time of which we write it was a sweep of dense forest. Outside of the block-house, built where the Myanos River enters a bay of the Sound, one September day in 1645 walked two elderly men, grizzled of beard and soldierly in bearing. Broadswords swung from their cross-belts and huge pistolets were stuck in their girdles. These were famous fighting men in New England history, Daniel Patrick and John Underhill. Bred to camps, they had chafed under Puritan laws, and had finally deserted the older settlements. Indeed, Captain Patrick had been the leader of the little colony which had made this beautiful place its home. “I tell thee, John, I trust not the savage any longer. Ponus hath been as surly as a bear with a sore head of late. I fear the Sagamore plots evil.” “Belike you are right, good Captain,” said Underhill, “and we must match craft with craft.” “Rumor hath it, too,” said Captain Patrick, with growing trouble on his face, “that strange runners have been back and forth during the month at the Sinoway village. We cannot look to our English friends for help, since we signed the pact with his Excellency Governor Kieft, accepting the rule of New Netherland. If an outbreak occurs, it must be from the Manhattans that relief will come. But look! there rides Dutch Cornelis with a bale of peltries to his crupper.”