I left the dark figure standing, still as a carved stone, in the heavy shadow of the trees, and, spurring my horse (sent me from home, the year before, by my cousin Percy), was soon at my house,--a poor and rude one, but pleasantly set upon a slope of green turf, and girt with maize and the broad leaves of the tobacco. When I had had my supper, I called from their hut the two Paspahegh lads bought by me from their tribe the Michaelmas before, and soundly flogged them both, having in my mind a saying of my ancient captain's, namely, “He who strikes first oft-times strikes last.” Upon the afternoon of which I now speak, in the midsummer of the year of grace 1621, as I sat upon my doorstep, my long pipe between my teeth and my eyes upon the pallid stream below, my thoughts were busy with these matters,--so busy that I did not see a horse and rider emerge from the dimness of the forest into the cleared space before my palisade, nor knew, until his voice came up the bank, that my good friend, Master John Rolfe, was without and would speak to me. I went down to the gate, and, unbarring it, gave him my hand and led the horse within the inclosure. “Thou careful man!” he said, with a laugh, as he dismounted. “Who else, think you, in this or any other hundred, now bars his gate when the sun goes down?” “It is my sunset gun,” I answered briefly, fastening his horse as I spoke. He put his arm about my shoulder, for we were old friends, and together we went up the green bank to the house, and, when I had brought him a pipe, sat down side by side upon the doorstep. “Of what were you dreaming?” he asked presently, when we had made for ourselves a great cloud of smoke. “I called you twice.” “I was wishing for Dale's times and Dale's laws.” He laughed, and touched my knee with his hand, white and smooth as a woman's, and with a green jewel upon the forefinger. “Thou Mars incarnate!” he cried. “Thou first, last, and in the meantime soldier! Why, what wilt thou do when thou gettest to heaven? Make it too hot to hold thee? Or take out letters of marque against the Enemy?” “I am not there yet,” I said dryly. “In the meantime I would like a commission against--your relatives.” He laughed, then sighed, and, sinking his chin into his hand and softly tapping his foot against the ground, fell into a reverie. “I would your princess were alive,” I said presently. “So do I,” he answered softly. “So do I.” Locking his hands behind his head, he raised his quiet face to the evening star. “Brave and wise and gentle,” he mused. “If I did not think to meet her again, beyond that star, I could not smile and speak calmly, Ralph, as I do now.” “'T is a strange thing,” I said, as I refilled my pipe. “Love for your brother-in-arms, love for your commander if he be a commander worth having, love for your horse and dog, I understand. But wedded love! to tie a burden around one's neck because 't is pink and white, or clear bronze, and shaped with elegance! Faugh!”