is tribe, which occupied
the region in the vicinity of Saco. He was a man of great strength of
mind, elevation of character, and of singular gravity and
impressiveness of address. One day his wife was paddling down the
River Saco in a canoe, with her infant child. Some English sailors,
coming along in a boat, accosted her brutally, and, saying that they
had understood that Indian children could swim as naturally as young
ducks, overset the canoe. The infant sank like lead. The indignant
mother dove to the bottom and brought up her exhausted child alive,
but it soon after died. Squando was so exasperated by this outrage,
that, with his whole soul burning with indignation, he traversed the
wilderness to rouse the scattered tribes to a war of extermination
against the English.

Just then the appalling tidings came of the breaking out of Philip's
war. The Plymouth colony sent a messenger to York to inform the
inhabitants of their danger, and to urge them to disarm the Indians,
and to sell them no more powder or shot. A party of volunteers was
immediately sent from York to ascend the Kennebec River, inform the
settlers along its banks of their impending danger, and ascertain the
disposition of the Indians. With a small vessel they entered the mouth
of the river, then called the Sagadahock, and ascended the stream for
several miles. Here they met twelve Indians, and, strange to relate,
induced them to surrender their guns. One of the Indians, more
spirited than the rest, was not disposed to yield to the demand, and,
becoming enraged, struck at one of the English party with his hatchet,
endeavoring to kill him. He was promptly arrested, bound, and confined
in a cellar.

The Indians plead earnestly for his release, offering many apologies
for his crime. They said that he was subject to fits of insanity, and
that he was intoxicated. They offered to pay forty beavers' skins for
his ransom, and to leave hostages for his good behavior in the hands
of the English. Upon these terms the prisoner was released. They then,
in token of amity, partook of an abundant repast, smoked the pipe of
peace, and the Indians had a grand dance, with shouts and songs which
made the welkin ring. The promises of the Indians, however, were not
fulfilled. The hostages all run away, and not a beaver skin was ever
paid.

A man by the name of Thomas Purchas had built him a hut in the lonely
wilderness, just below the Falls of the Androscoggin, in the pre