ave writ a reply,"
continued he, laying down his pipe and drawing a roll of paper from the
pocket of his leathern jerkin, "and am fain to have your mind upon it,
for I would not be over bitter, and yet was shrewdly wounded that John
Carver lying in his honored grave should be so rudely attacked. Shall I
read it?"

"Ay, an' thou wilt, though I'm more than half in mind to take passage by
the Fortune, and give Master Weston and the rest a reply after mine own
fashion."

"What, and leave the train band to its own destruction! But here you
have my poor script:--

"To the worshipful Master Thos: Weston:

"Sir,--Your large letter written to Mr. Carver and dated the 16th of
July 1621 I have received the 20th of Nov'br, wherein you lay many
heavy imputations upon him and us all. Touching him he is departed this
life, and now is at rest in the Lord from all those troubles and
incumbrances with which we are yet to strive. He needs not my apology;
for his care and pains were so great for the common good both ours and
yours, as that therewith it is thought, he oppressed himself and
shortened his days of whose loss we cannot sufficiently complain. At
great charges in this Adventure I confess you have been, and many
losses you may sustain; but the loss of his and many other honest and
industrious mens lives cannot be valued at any price. Of the one there
may be hope of recovery, but the other no recompence can make good."

"Oh, you're too mild, Bradford," burst out the captain as the reader
paused and looked up for approval. "You should bombard him with red-hot
shot, hurl a flight of grape, a volley of canister into his midst--nay
then, but I'll go myself and with a blow of my gauntlet across Master
Weston's ears"--

"Captain--Captain Standish! Master Warren hath sent me to warn your
worship that some of the new-comers are building a bonfire in the Town
Square, and sprinkling the pile with powder"--

"There, Myles, thou seest how well we can spare thee! Wouldst leave me
at the mercy of these rough companions who"--

But already the captain armed with a stout stick was half way down the
hill, and, smiling quaintly to himself Bradford relighted his pipe and
went home to finish his letter.

A week later the Fortune sailed on her return voyage carrying Cushman,
who left his son Thomas under Bradford's care until he should come
again, not knowing that his next voyage should be across the shoreless
sea whence no