leading warriors who sat around gave the
fierce war-cry of the tribe as the captive was brought in.

The old chieftain looked with keen eyes on his famous prisoner, of whose
capture he had been advised by runners sent before. There was a look of
triumph and malignity in his eyes, but Captain Smith stood before him
unmoved. He had been through too many dangers to be easily dismayed, and
near death's door too often to yield to despair. Powhatan gave an order
to a young Indian woman, who brought him a wooden basin of water that he
might wash his hands. Then she presented him a bunch of feathers to
serve as a towel. This done, meat and corn-bread were placed before him.
As he ate Powhatan talked with his warriors, consulting with them, the
captive feared, upon his fate. But he finished his meal with little loss
of appetite, trusting to the Providence which had saved him more than
once before to come to his aid again.

As he ate, his vigilant eyes looked heedfully around the room. Many who
were there gazed on him with interest, and one of them, a young Indian
girl of twelve or thirteen years of age, with pity and concern. It was
evident that she was of high rank in the tribe, for she was richly
dressed and wore in her hair a plume of feathers like that of Powhatan,
and on her feet moccasins embroidered like his. There was a troubled and
compassionate look in her eyes, as she gazed on the captive white man, a
look which he may perhaps have seen and taken comfort from in his hour
of dread.

No such feeling as this seemed to rest in the heart of the old chief and
his warriors. Their conference quickly ended, and, though its words were
strange to him, the captive could read his fate in their dark and
frowning faces. They had grown to hate the whites, and now that their
leader was a captive before them, they decided to put him to death.

There was no loss of time in preparation for the execution of the fatal
decree. At an order from Powhatan the captive was seized and securely
bound, then he was laid on the floor of the hut, with his head on a
large stone brought in from outside. Beside him stood a stalwart savage
grasping a huge war-club. A word, a signal from Powhatan, was alone
needed and the victim's brains would have been dashed out.

At this critical moment Smith's good angel watched over him. A low cry
of pity was heard, and the young girl who had watched him with such
concern sprang forward and clasped her arms aroun