Seeing
this, the ambassador hurried to them, begging them not to come
nearer, and saying that his chief could not be found, as he had
gone to Long Island.
"That is not true," replied the English. "We know he is here. So
find him speedily or we will march through the country and spoil
your corn."
Hour after hour went past; the Englishmen always patiently waiting;
the wily Indian always inventing some new excuse for delay. But
at length the patience of the English was exhausted, and, beating
their drums, they charged the savages. Some were killed, and, the
rest fleeing, the English burned their wigwams and destroyed their
corn, and carried off their mats and baskets as booty.
But the Pequots were not in the least subdued, and more than ever
they harassed the colonists of Connecticut. So the men of Connecticut
sent to Massachusetts and to Plymouth asking for help. The people
of Plymouth, however, said the quarrel was none of theirs and sent
no help, but from Massachusetts about twenty men were sent. Besides
this, a few friendly Indians, glad at the chance of punishing their
old tyrants, joined with the white men.
So one moonlight night the little company embarked, and, sailing
along the coast, landed at a spot about two days' journey from the
Pequot fort. As they got near to it most of the Indians who had come
with the English took fright and ran away.
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