nd unwarned. The fighting men of the villages of
the Powhatan and the Pamunkey and the great bay are many, and they have
sharpened their hatchets and filled their quivers with arrows."
"Scattered!" I cried. "Strewn broadcast up and down the river--here a
lonely house, there a cluster of two or three--the men in the fields or
at the wharves, the women and children busy within doors, all unwarned!"
I leaned against the side of the hut, for my heart beat like a
frightened woman's. "Three days!" I exclaimed. "If we go with all our
speed, we shall be in time. When did you learn this thing?"
"While you watched the dance," the Indian answered, "Opechancanough and
I sat within his lodge in the darkness. His heart was moved, and he
talked to me of his own youth in a strange country, south of the sunset.
Also he spoke to me of Powhatan, my father--of how wise he was and how
great a chief before the English came, and how he hated them. And
then--then I heard what I have told you!"
"How long has this been planned?"
"For many moons. I have been a child, fooled and turned aside from the
trail; not wise enough to see it beneath the flowers, through the smoke
of the peace pipes."
"Why does Opechancanough send us back to the settlements?" I demanded.
"It is his fancy. Every hunter and trader and learner of our tongues,
living in the villages or straying in the woods, has been sent back to
Jamestown or his home with presents and fair words. You will lull the
English in Jamestown into a faith in the smiling sky just before the
storm bursts on them in fullest fury."
There was a pause.
"Nantaquas," I said, "you are not the first child of Powhatan who has
loved and shielded the white men."
"Pocahontas was a woman, a child," he answered. "Out of pity she saved
your lives, not knowing that it was to the hurt of her people. Then you
were few and weak and could not take your revenge. Now, if you die not,
you will drink deep of vengeance--so deep that your lips may never leave
the cup. More ships will come, and more; you will grow ever stronger.
There may come a moon when the deep forests and the shining rivers will
know us, to whom [v]Kiwassa gave them, no more."
"You will be with your people in the war?" I asked.
"I am an Indian," was his simple reply.
"Come against us if you will," I returned. "Nobly warned, fair upon our
guard, we will meet you as knightly foe should be met."
Very slowly he raised his arm from hi
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