ed enviously at his comrades sound asleep about
the fire.

"'T is all but burned," muttered he stooping to examine the match, and
thrusting a fallen log back into the fire with his boot. But in that
very instant upon the intense stillness of the night burst suddenly a
discordant clamor, a confusion of horrible and unknown sounds, unlike,
in simple Edward Dotey's mind, to anything possible this side of hell.
Undaunted even thus, he answered the assault with a yell of quivering
defiance, fired his matchlock into the air, and shouted at the top of
his voice,--

"Arm! arm! arm! The fiend is upon us!"

All sprang to their feet alert and ready, and two or three pieces were
shot off, but no foe appeared, and no reply was made to their shouts of
defiance.

Dotey, questioned by Standish, was fain to confess he had seen nothing,
and Coppin averred that he had more than once heard similar sounds upon
the coast of Newfoundland, and that they were commonly thought to be the
voices of sirens or mermaids who haunted lonely shores.

"If naught more imminent than mermaids is upon us I'll e'en go back to
sleep," said Winslow in good-natured derision, while Standish, lighting
his slow-match, said pleasantly to Dotey,--

"Lay thee down, man, and sleep. If thy fiend comes again I'll give
account of him."

A few grim jests, a little laughter, and the camp was again quiet, until
Standish, sure that no enemy could be at hand, resigned his watch to
Howland, and he to English, until at five o'clock William Bradford
aroused his comrades, reminding them that on account of the tide they
must embark within the hour, and had still to breakfast.

A wintry fog, piercing in its chill, had closed down upon the camp,
covering everything with a half-frozen rime, dropping sullenly like rain
from such things as came near the fire, and stiffening into ice in the
shade.

"I fear me our pieces will hang fire after this soaking," remarked
Carver examining his matchlock.

"It were well to try them before there is need," said Winslow firing his
into the thicket behind the camp. His example was followed by several,
until Standish good-humoredly cried,--

"Enough, enough, friends! Save powder and shot for the enemy if there be
one. Such grapes grow not on these vines."

"Well, since the pieces are ready, and the twilight breaks, it were well
for some of us to carry them and the other armor down to the boat, while
the rest set out the breakfast," sugg