The Princess Pocahontas | Page 4

into a little hollow
before they thought of starting after her.
It was now almost dark and her white fur was indistinguishable against
the snow below. Before they had reached the bottom, Pocahontas, who
knew every inch of the ground that was less familiar to men from her
uncle's village, had slipped back into the forest which skirted the fields
the pursuers were now speeding across, and was lost at once in the
darkness.
Opechanchanough knew nothing of this escape. He meant to explain to
his royal brother how much mischief a child might do who was not
kept at home performing squaw duties in her wigwam. And Powhatan's
favorite daughter or not, Pocahontas should be kept waiting outside her
father's lodge until he had related his important business and had
recounted all the glorious deeds done by his Pamunkeys.
Now they had come to Werowocomoco itself, and the noise of their
shoutings and of their war drums brought the inhabitants running out of
their wigwams. As the Pamunkeys were an allied tribe, their cause
against a common enemy was the same, yet the rejoicings at the victory
against the Monachans was somewhat less than it would have been had
the conquerors been Powhatans themselves. However,
Opechanchanough and his braves could not complain of their reception,
and runners sped ahead to advise Powhatan of their coming, while all
the population of their village crowded about them, the men

questioning, the boys fingering the scalps and each boasting how many
he would have at his girdle when he was grown.
The great Werowance was not in his ceremonial lodge but in the one in
which he ordinarily slept and ate when at Werowocomoco.
Opechanchanough paused at the opening of the lodge and ordered:
"When I call out then bring ye in Pocahontas, and we shall see what
Powhatan thinks of a squaw child that shoots at warriors."
The lodge was almost dark when he entered it. Before the fire in the
centre he could see his brother Powhatan seated, and on each side of
him one of his wives. Then he made out the features of his nephew
Nautauquas and Pocahontas' younger sister, Cleopatra (for so it was the
English later understood the girl's strange Indian name). They had
evidently just been eating supper and the dogs behind them were
gnawing the wild turkey bones that had been thrown to them. At
Powhatan's feet crouched a child in a dark robe, with face in the
shadow.
Powhatan greeted his brother gravely and bade him be seated. The
lodge soon filled with braves packed closely together, and about the
opening crowded all who could, and these repeated to the men and
squaws left outside the words that were spoken within.
Proudly Opechanchanough began to tell how he had tracked the
Monachans to a hill above the river, and how he and his war party had
fallen upon them, driving them down the steep banks, slaying and
scalping, even swimming into the icy water to seize those who sought
to escape. And The Powhatan nodded in approval, uttering now and
again a word of praise. When Opechanchanough had finished his recital
the shaman, or medicine-man, rose and sang a song of praise about the
brave Pamunkeys, brothers of the Powhatans.
Then, one after another, Opechanchanough's braves told of their
personal exploits.
"I," sang one, "I, the Forest Wolf, have devoured mine enemy. Many

suns shall set red between the forest trees, but none so red as the blood
that flowed when my sharp knife severed his scalp lock."
And as each recited his deeds his words were received with clappings
of hands and grunts of approval.
Powhatan gave orders to open the guest lodge and to prepare a feast for
the victors. Then Opechanchanough rose again to speak. After he had
finished another song of triumph, he turned to Powhatan and asked:
"Brother, how long hath it been that thy warriors keep within their
lodges, leaving to young squaws the duty of sentinels who cannot
distinguish friends from foes?"
Powhatan gazed at the speaker in astonishment.
"What dost thou mean by such strange words?" asked the chief.
"As we returned through the forest," explained Opechanchanough,
"before we reached the boundary of thy fields, while we still believed
that a part of the Monachans might lie in ambush for us there, an arrow,
shot from the westward, flew before my face. Then came a second
arrow out of the branches of an oak tree. We took the bowman prisoner,
and what thinkest thou we found?--a squaw child!"
"A squaw child!" repeated Powhatan in astonishment. "Was it one of
this village?"
"Even so. Brother. I have her captive outside that thou mayst
pronounce judgment upon one who endangers thus the life of thy
brother and who forgetteth