Von Donck lashed his pony and the nimble animal bounded off to the west, while Geoffrey dismounted, and, holding the savage dog at bay with his sword, advanced to meet the owner of the land. "Do not fear, friend," he said, as they drew together. "I am no spy, but an Englishman from the north. He who rides yonder is a friendly Dutchman who has accompanied me upon the way. I pray you tell me is my Lord Baltimore within the town?" The settler, a tall man in a quaker hat and black cloak, which fell from his neck almost to the ground, regarded the speaker with cold, unfavouring eyes. "You know little of this country, young sir, if you believe that Lord Baltimore governs here," he replied at length. "You stand within the province of Massachusetts beside the town of Boston, and the lord you seek rules over the province of Maryland and that country to the west of the bay of Chesapeake." Geoffrey's heart sank at this chill reception, and he lowered his eyes despondently before the stern gaze of the Puritan as he answered: "I come to pray for a ship and men to be sent against the French, who hold the north. He who sent me, charging me to deliver this ring in his name to Lord Baltimore, believes that his countrymen and mine will not fail to help us in the time of need." "Put not your trust in Massachusetts," said the listener dourly. "We have much ado to defend ourselves against the Mohicans and the pinch of famine. We know not ourselves where to turn for aid, and your cry is ours also. You have reached the valley of dry bones, young stranger." "The dry bones stood up in an exceeding great army," returned Geoffrey boldly. "Even so. If it be God's will, we also shall stand up. What is the name of him who sent you?" "Sir Thomas Iden." "Of county Kent?" "The same." "I have heard of that family as most loyal to the Crown. Arms, a chevron between three close helmets, if my memory mistake not. I also am from the south, driven out, like many a better man, by the hand of persecution. Come now! I will lead you to the house of John Winthrop, our governor." The town of Boston was then a mere village of distressful huts crowded within a great palisade; the single street, which led to a quay of closely-packed logs covered by stones with earth atop, was rough ground over which the tyreless wheels of primitive carts jolted woefully. The candle-light from a few windows shed a dreary gleam across the way, where men closely muffled drifted along with a stern "Good-e'en." There was neither laughter nor tavern-singing nor play-acting in that cheerless town, no throwing of dice nor rattle of cups. The Puritan mind was dominant; and the only sound of music that disturbed the unhappy silence was the lugubrious droning of a psalm or sad-toned hymn. A lamp flickered near the entry, and beside the watchman, who kept the light burning at the gate, stretched a board; and upon the board appeared in short black letters the notice:--