“Are you flying to-day?” asked black-eyed Squaw Pendergast, as his dusty figure moved athwart the cool trunks of the trees. “Ay, Squaw Pendergast, and it’s good money I’ve made to-day,” said Tommy, striking on a pocket in his leather breeches. “It’s a lively supper that I have for you,” said the squaw. Tommy threw down his bag of tools and fanned himself with his hat, looking away to the sunset sky. A “lively” supper Tommy made, but his pocket did not chink so lively after it was over. Some idling cattle-drovers came, and he took another supper with them; and after his two suppers were over his leather pocket did not chink at all. But the chink might have been heard in Squaw Pendergast’s long woollen pocket. During the evening a quarrel arose between the half-intoxicated drovers and Pendergast, the keeper of the ordinary, who was an ale-drinking, indolent, disorderly Indian. The men disputed; the Indian interfered, and struck one of them to the floor, where he lay for a time insensible. The squaw took her husband’s side in the quarrel, and threw firewood at the drovers; and amid it all the alarmed neighbors came to the place and demanded the keeping of the peace. The idlers at the ordinary went away through fear of arrest, and with them disappeared Tommy Trembly’s bag of tinker’s tools, solder, and soldering irons. The man recovered, but the next morning came an order from Judge Waban for the arrest of the Indian Pendergast and his squaw, and also a demand that Tommy Trembly should appear as witness. The court day was appointed. Tommy was greatly frightened, for the eccentric punishments of Old Waban’s courts were famous; and the affair presented Tommy in no favorable light among the grave Puritan Indians. “I am only a witness,” he said to the people who stared at him on the way, “only the witness, you know.” “You don’t know what you will find yourself when you get into the court of Old Waban,” said a farmer. “If you weren’t a white man I would not like to stand in your place.” The court was held on the brown fields near where Wellesley College now stands. The slopes were cooled by great oak shadows, and overlooked the lovely pond now called Lake Waban. All the people, Indians and white, gathered from skeleton villages around to witness the trial. It was a hot autumn day. The locusts sang in the great oaks, and the ospreys whirled in the sky. The grasses rustled; the ferns were turning yellow, and blue gentians filled the dry beds of the summer weirs under the hills. Here and there wild grasses hung from the trees, and everywhere the always curious bluejays floated and scolded, as if to ask what meant all this gathering of the people.