spreading terror among the white people. He was jealous of their gradual encroachment upon what he conceived to be his domain and he planned to destroy them. He was a man of sagacity, although said to be wanting in physical courage, and he gradually combined all of the Indian tribes into one strong confederation and waited for a chance to strike the decisive blow.
It came at Swansea on Sunday, July 4, 1675. The settlers were going to church when the Indians suddenly burst upon them. But these pioneers were both pious and prepared, and taking up arms they routed their assailants. Philip and his warriors then hunted the settlers in the Connecticut valley, burning down their homes and subjecting the people to the most atrocious forms of cruelty. In the spring the war broke out anew along a frontier of three hundred miles and to within twenty miles of Boston. The Indians had remained quiet for a long time after the initial outbreak—so quiet that the whites were thoroughly alarmed. They knew the ruthless nature of their foes and they feared the consequences to the women and children if they should be taken unawares.
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.
“We have escaped from the clutches of the white man,” replied Job in his native tongue, “and we came to you for protection. The white man of Lancaster came and took the red man prisoner. He charged us with murdering his squaws and he gave us no chance to defend ourselves.”
“Tell me more,” said the chief Sachem, deeply interested.
Job did as he was requested and he was able to do so all the more eloquently because he was giving an account of some things that had actually occurred to the Praying Indians. He said they had been accused by David, a fellow savage, of being concerned in the murder of the whites. But he added that the manner in which David was forced to make this charge robbed it of all value. He related how Colonel Mosely and a scouting party captured David and tied him to a tree; how with six muskets pointed at his head he was told to confess or die. To save his life he named eleven men he understood were present at the murder, though he himself was not there, and knew nothing about it. The men were put on trial, and so great and indiscriminate was the popular feeling against the natives that several of them were condemned.
“But you are alive,” grinned the Sachem.
Job admitted the soft impeachment and explained how he and his companions had been imprisoned on Deer Island. He said that he and James Quannapohit had managed to escape, but slyly enough neglected to tell the Sachem that the escape had been arranged by their English friends. He concluded by saying that they had come to the camp of the Nipmuck Indians to get the lay of the land, “so that they might advise the friends they had left if it would be possible for them also to escape.”
The Sachem accepted the story of Job and his companion and they were given the liberty of the camp. The two Praying Indians kept their eyes and ears open and learned much. Mantampe was undoubtedly in command of a large force. Job met many of the Indians, who were, as a rule, able fighting men, straight as arrows, very tall and active.
Three squaws who were in the camp interested and amused the spies. One was a very proud dame. She spent the best part of each day in dressing herself in all the colors of the rainbow; she powdered her hair and painted her face, wore numberless necklaces, had jewels in her hair and bracelets on her wrists. When she finished her toilet she sat down and spent the remainder of the day in making girdles of wampum and beads.
James Quannapohit found great favor in the eyes of Mantampe. He made him share his tent with him and insisted upon his repeating the story of his escape from Deer Island. During the course of these talks James learned that the Nipmuck Indians contemplated a raid on the white settlers. They proposed to burn Lancaster and then attack other towns. The method of the raid was not made clear. One morning Mantampe called James before him.
“Son,” he said in substance, “I am about to take a journey for the purpose of visiting the big chief, King Philip. If all goes well I may take you with me.”
This alarmed James. He dreaded the idea of going further into the Indian country, perhaps to a point where it would be impossible for him to make his escape. Besides that he had a good reason for wishing to avoid a meeting with the king. He had once fought against Philip at Mount Hope. He had taken a conspicuous part in the battle and he knew that if the King recognized him he would be shot.
The next morning he arose before any one was stirring, and left the camp. He urged Job to go along with him but the other spy refused to do so.
“But you will be killed,” urged James, “when they discover my absence. They will at once suspect that you are a spy, and that means death.”
Job shook his head.
“You go,” he said. “I don’t blame you for that. But I am going to stay for a while. It may mean life or death, but I am willing to take my chances.”
Nothing that James could say would shake the determination of Job. So the younger Indian started on the return journey to Boston alone. There had been severe storms and the snow lay deep on the ground. It was necessary for the Indian to wear heavy snowshoes and this made traveling all the more difficult.
When the Indian spy reached Boston he had a tale of unparalleled hardships to relate to his white friends. But more important than that was his story of the plans of the Indians against the