Half an hour later, Major Bradford returned, and with him an ox-sled driven by Samuel and Benjamin, sons of David, and grandsons of the Pilgrim John Alden, but lately gone to his rest. The sled had been hastily provided with a straw bed and some rugs, and the major, still on horseback, bore a flask of mingled spirit and water, a generous dose of which he at once proceeded to pour down the throat of the young man, now slowly returning to consciousness.
"His arm is broken for sure," remarked Samuel, as he and his brother carefully raised the helpless body.
"And Comfort Starr gone, and no other leech nearer than Boston!" suggested Benjamin, gloomily.
"Nay, father and I can set it as well as ever a doctor of 'em all," replied Samuel, and the major added:
"Ay, that you can, Sam. David Alden and I dressed many a broken arm, and leg too, in the Pequod time."
"The womenfolk are all agog to have the care of him," suggested Benjamin with a grin. "Mother and Betty (you know, major, our Betty and John Seabury, her goodman, are on a visit to the old homestead) and Prissy and Elsie are just gay at thought of such matter of wonder and amaze."
"Ay they're women," returned the major briefly, and the oxen started on, Rover trotting sedately at his master's side.
