face is
a mask, and that simple-seeming amazement at horses and armor, guns and
blue beads, is a mask. It is in my mind that some fair day the mask will
be dropped. Here's the village."

Until our interview with Chanco the Christian, the village of the
Paspaheghs, and not the village of the Chickahominies, had been our
destination, and since leaving the block house we had made good speed;
but now, within the usual girdle of mulberries, we were met by the
werowance and his chief men with the customary savage ceremonies. We had
long since come to the conclusion that the birds of the air and the fish
of the streams were Mercuries to the Indians.

The werowance received us in due form, with presents of fish and
venison, cakes of chinquapin meal and gourds of pohickory, an uncouth
dance by twelve of his young men and a deal of hellish noise; then, at
our command, led us into the village, and to the lodge which marked its
centre. Around it were gathered Opechancanough's own warriors, men from
Orapax and Uttamussac and Werowocomoco, chosen for their strength and
cunning; while upon the grass beneath a blood-red gum tree sat his
wives, painted and tattooed, with great strings of pearl and copper
about their necks. Beyond them were the women and children of the
Chickahominies, and around us all the red forest.

The mat that hung before the door of the lodge was lifted, and an
Indian, emerging, came forward, with a gesture of welcome. It was
Nantauquas, the Lady Rebekah's brother, and the one Indian--saving
always his dead sister--that was ever to my liking; a savage, indeed,
but a savage as brave and chivalrous, as courteous and truthful, as a
Christian knight.

Rolfe sprang from his horse, and advancing to meet the young chief
embraced him. Nantauquas had been much with his sister during those her
happy days at Varina, before she went with Rolfe that ill-fated voyage
to England, and Rolfe loved him for her sake and for his own. "I thought
you at Orapax, Nantauquas!" he exclaimed.

"I was there, my brother," said the Indian, and his voice was sweet,
deep, and grave, like that of his sister. "But Opechancanough would go
to Uttamussac, to the temple and the dead kings. I lead his war parties
now, and I came with him. Opechancanough is within the lodge. He asks
that my brother and Captain Percy come to him there."

He lifted the mat for us, and followed us into the lodge. There was the
usual winding entrance, with half a doz