says the record, "she ran away by herself as she came."

So the captain hurried back to Jamestown, and Ma-ta-oka returned to her
people.

Soon after Smith left the colony, sick and worn out by the continual
worries and disputes with his fellow-colonists, and Ma-ta-oka felt that,
in the absence of her best friend and the increasing troubles between
her tribesmen and the pale-faces, it would be unwise for her to visit
Jamestown.

Her fears seem to have been well grounded, for in the spring of
1613, Ma-ta-oka, being then about sixteen, was treacherously and "by
stratagem" kidnapped by the bold and unscrupulous Captain Argall--half
pirate, half trader,--and was held by the colonists as hostage for the
"friendship" of Pow-ha-tan.

Within these three years, however, she had been married to the chief of
one of the tributary tribes, Ko-ko-um by name, but, as was the Indian
marriage custom, Ko-ko-um had come to live among the kindred of his
wife, and had shortly after been killed in one of the numerous Indian
fights.

It was during the captivity of the young widow at Jamestown that
she became acquainted with Master John Rolfe, an industrious young
Englishman, and the man who, first of all the American colonists,
attempted the cultivation of tobacco.

Master Rolfe was a widower and an ardent desirer of "the conversion of
the pagan salvages." He became interested in the young Indian widow, and
though he protests that he married her for the purpose of converting
her to Christianity, and rather ungallantly calls her "an unbelieving
creature," it is just possible that if she had not been a pretty
and altogether captivating young unbeliever he would have found less
personal means for her conversion.

Well, the Englishman and the Indian girl, as we all know, were married,
lived happily together, and finally departed for England. Here, all too
soon, in 1617, when she was about twenty-one, the daughter of the great
chieftain of the Pow-ha-tans died.

Her story is both a pleasant and a sad one. It needs none of the
additional romance that has been thrown about it to render it more
interesting. An Indian girl, free as her native forests, made friends
with the race that, all unnecessarily, became hostile to her own.
Brighter, perhaps, than most of the girls of her tribe, she recognized
and desired to avail herself of the refinements of civilization, and so
gave up her barbaric surroundings, cast in her lot with the white race,
a