It was at this critical stage of affairs that Major Gookin—he had been promoted—bethought himself of the Praying Indians on Deer Island. It was absolutely necessary to know something of the plans of King Philip and his bloodthirsty redskins. If a white man went into their camp he was certain to be scalped and tortured. If an Indian could be induced to act as a spy he might save the whites from a wholesale massacre. The eloquent Major visited Deer Island and presented these facts to the prisoners and called for volunteers. He said that a service of this kind would not only secure the release of the Praying Indians, but would win for them the lasting friendship of the white people. “I go,” said one handsome brave, rising and lifting his hand solemnly in mid-air. “I go, not for reward, but to save the palefaces from death.” The Indian was Job Kattenanit. He was tall and perfectly erect, with piercing black eyes and a grave, almost sorrowful countenance. There was a suggestion of nobility in his bearing. In short, he might well have passed for the original of Deerfoot, so vividly pictured by James Fenimore Cooper. Major Gookin recognized him at once. He knew the Indians personally, and he had a special friendship for this straight shouldered chap. He rushed over and gripped him by the hand. “Job,” he exclaimed, “the white people shall know of this and in time it will help your people.” A mist passed before the bright eyes of the Indian, and he gave a gesture as if to sweep the suggestion aside. “White man cruel to Indian,” he rejoined, “but the red man must return good for evil.” As they were about to leave another Indian rose in his place and said: “Me go, too—me go with Job.” This was James Quannapohit, a native in whom Major Gookin also had implicit confidence. After deliberation he decided to accept the services of both volunteers. They were taken aside and given careful directions. That night Job and James were brought secretly from Deer Island and set free—according to arrangement. In order to avoid difficulties they had been first escorted beyond the British lines. From that point they journeyed alone and on foot. It was a long walk, and when they reached their destination they were footsore, hungry and almost in rags. It was as they wished. They bore the appearance of fugitives, of escaped prisoners. It was daybreak when they arrived in the camp of the Nipmuck Indians. They threw themselves on their faces and begged for food and drink. The amazed redskins who surrounded them wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in the camp of the Nipmuck Indians. Job, who acted as spokesman, insisted upon refreshments and said he would tell his story to some one in authority. After their wants had been satisfied they were escorted to Mantampe, a chief Sachem of the tribe. “What you do here?” he demanded.