BARBARA STANDISH. 85
himself down to rest for a moment; and taking off his steeple-crowned hat with its waving plume of cock-feathers, worn partly as symbol of his calling, partly in honor of his ancestral crest, the captain wiped his brow, and suffering his eyes to rest upon the lovely view of headland, bay, bright waters, and brighter sunshine spread before them, felt the anger of his mood dying within him, and a feeling of amusement mingling with his annoyance.
"It is ill-befitting a man's dignity to quarrel with a saucy girl," muttered he, and presently laughed outright. "I would that I might see her try to fire the musket that she begged! Ten pounds to one that it would kick her over."
The smile was still upon his face, and the merry fancy in his brain, when up from the woodland at his feet, the woodland through which he but now had passed, rang a wild, wild shriek,—the cry of a woman in deadliest terror or pain.
"What now! Is it a tiger-cat again?" exclaimed Standish, starting to his feet, and hastily resuming the musket and equipments he had thrown aside on lying down, and without which no man traveled in those days. Before he had them adjusted the cry was repeated, this time a little nearer. The soldier replied to it with a stirring halloo, and darted down the hill in the direction whence it sounded.
"Help! help! Oh, quick, for the Lord's sake!" shrieked a voice that he knew; and striking off from the path into the low growth of the pine
