ntas only smiled. Smith then turned, waving his hand to the men
who had followed him.

"These, my comrades, would thank thee too could they but speak thy
tongue."

The hats of cavaliers and the caps of the workmen were all doffed, and
Pocahontas acknowledged their courtesy with great dignity.

"Let us show our guests our town," suggested Smith, "even though it lack
as yet palaces and bazaars filled with gorgeous raiment. I will lead the
princess; do ye care for her maidens and the young brave." As they
walked along the path from the fort to Jamestown's one street he asked:
"Tell me, my little jailor, how came The Powhatan to set me free? I have
wondered every day since, and I cannot understand. Thou didst prevail
with him, was it not so?"

"Aye," answered the girl. "First was I angry with thee, then my heart,
though I did not wish to hearken to it, made me pity thee away from thy
people, even as I pitied the wildcat I loosed from his trap. My father
would not list to me at first, but I plead and reasoned with him,
telling him that thy friendship for us would be even as a high tide that
covereth sharp rocks over which we could ride safely."

"But what meant the songs and dances in the hut in the woods, Matoaka?"

"That was the ceremony of adoption. Thou art now the son of Powhatan and
my brother. Thou wert taken into our tribe, and those were the ancient
rites of our people."

"And the journey through the woods, didst thou fear for my safety then
that thou didst follow all the way?"

But Pocahontas did not answer. She would not tell him that she had still
doubted her father, and that she was not sure what instructions he had
given the men ordered to guide the paleface.

"Thou art like the Sun God," said Smith with genuine feeling, "powerful
to save and to bless, little sister--since I have been made thy brother.
And as man may not repay the Sun God for all his blessings, no more may
I repay thee for all thou hast done for me."

Pocahontas was on the point of replying when she suddenly burst out
laughing at a sight before her. Two men who were rolling a barrel of
flour from the storehouse to their own home let it slip from their
weakened fingers. It rolled against one of the carpenters who was
standing with his back to it, and hitting against his shins, sent him
sprawling. It was undoubtedly a funny sight and she was not the only one
to be amused. But the man did not rise.

"Why doth he not get up?" asked Poc