The Princess Pocahontas | Page 2

to Jamestown, was one he could not comprehend. Modern historians believe that it was probably the ceremony of adoption by which Smith was made one of the tribe.
In many places in this story I have not only followed closely Smith's own narrative of what occurred, but have made use of the very words in which he recorded the conversations. For instance the incident related on page 101 was set down by Smith himself; on pages 144, 154, 262 the words are those of Smith as given in his history; on pages 173, 195, 260, 300 the words of Powhatan or Pocahontas as Smith relates them.
There may be readers of this story who will want to know what became of Pocahontas. She fell ill of a fever just as she was about to sail home for Virginia and died in Gravesend, where she was buried. Her son Thomas Rolfe was educated in England and went to Virginia when he was grown. His daughter Jane married John Bolling, and among their descendants have been many famous men and women, including Edith Bolling (Mrs. Galt) who married President Woodrow Wilson.
[Illustration: Decorative]

CONTENTS
I THE RETURN Of THE WARRIORS
II POCAHONTAS AND THE MEDICINE MAN
III MIDNIGHT IN THE FOREST
IV RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
V THE GREAT BIRDS
VI JOHN SMITH'S TEMPTATION
VII A FIGHT IN THE SWAMP
VIII POCAHONTAS DEFIES POWHATAN
IX SMITH'S GAOLER
X THE LODGE IN THE WOOD
XI POCAHONTAS VISITS JAMESTOWN
XII POWHATAN'S AMBASSADOR
XIII POWHATAN'S CORONATION
XIV A DANGEROUS SUPPER
XV A FAREWELL
XVI CAPTAIN ARGALL TAKES A PRISONER
XVII POCAHONTAS LOSES A FRIEND
XVIII A BAPTISM IN JAMESTOWN
XIX JOHN ROLFE
XX THE WEDDING
XXI ON THE TRAIL OF A THIEF
XXII POCAHONTAS IN ENGLAND

ILLUSTRATIONS
The white figure moved rapidly
"We choose to-day," he cried
"Let us be friends and allies, oh Powhatan"
"I will lead the princess"
Virginia in 1606--from Captain John Smith's Map
"Nay, nay," cried Pocahontas, "thou must not go"
"Do not shoot, Mark!"

[Illustration: Decorative]
THE PRINCESS POCAHONTAS
CHAPTER I
THE RETURN OF THE WARRIORS
Through the white forest came Opechanchanough and his braves, treading as silently as the flakes that fell about them. From their girdles hung fresh scalp locks which their silent Monachan owners did not miss.
But Opechanchanough, on his way to Werowocomoco to tell The Powhatan of the victory he had won over his enemies, did not feel quite sure that he had slain all the war party against which he and his Pamunkey braves had gone forth. The unexpected snow, coming late in the winter, had been blown into their eyes by the wind so that they could not tell whether some of the Monachans had not succeeded in escaping their vengeance. Perhaps, even yet, so near to the wigwams of his brother's town, the enemy might have laid an ambush. Therefore, it behooved them to be on their guard, to look behind each tree for crouching figures and to harken with all their ears that not even a famished squirrel might crack a nut unless they could point out the bough on which it perched.
Opechanchanough led the long thin line that threaded its way through the broad cutting between huge oaks, still bronze with last year's leaves. He held his head high and to himself he framed the words of the song of triumph he meant to sing to The Powhatan, as the chief of the Powhatans was called. Then, suddenly before his face shot an arrow.
At a shout from their leader, the long line swung itself to the right, and fifty arrows flew to the northward, the direction from which danger might be expected. Still there was silence, no outcry from an ambushed enemy, no sign of other human creatures.
Opechanchanough consulted with his braves whence had the arrow come; and even while they talked, another arrow from the right whizzed before his face.
"A bad archer," he grunted, "who cannot hit me with two shots." Then pointing to a huge oak that forked half way up, he commanded:
"Bring him to me."
Two braves rushed forward to the tree, on which all eyes were now fixed. It was difficult to distinguish anything through the falling snow and the mass of its flakes that had gathered in the crotch. All was white there, yet there was something white which moved, and the two braves on reaching the tree trunk yelled in delight and disdain.
The white figure moved rapidly now. Swinging itself out on a branch and catching hold of a higher one, it seemed determined to retreat from its pursuers to the very summit of the tree. But the braves did not waste time in climbing after it; they leapt up in the air like panthers, caught the branch and swung it vigorously back and forth so that the creature's feet slipped from under it and it fell into their outstretched arms.
Not waiting even to investigate the white bundle of fur, the warriors, surrounded by their curious fellows, bore it to Opechanchanough, and laid it on the