ed
old gentleman of about sixty, and possessed such an influence over his
tribesmen that he was regarded as the head man (president, we might
say), of their forest republic, which comprised the thirty confederated
tribes of Pow-ha-tan. The confederacy, in its strongest days, never
numbered more than eight or nine thousand people, and yet it was
considered one of the largest Indian unions in America. This, therefore,
may be considered as pretty good proof that there was never, after all,
a very extensive Indian population in America, even before the white man
discovered it.

Into one of the Pow-ha-tan villages that stood very near the shores of
Chesapeake Bay, and almost opposite the now historic site of Yorktown,
came one biting day, in the winter of 1607, an Indian runner, whose name
was Ra-bun-ta. He came as one that had important news to tell, but he
paused not for shout or question from the inquisitive boys who were
tumbling about in the light snow, in their favorite sport of Ga-wa-sa or
the "snow-snake" game. One of the boys, a mischievous and sturdy young
Indian of thirteen, whose name was. Nan-ta-qua-us, even tried to insert
the slender knob-headed stick, which was the "snake" in the game,
between the runner's legs, and trip him up. But Ra-bun-ta was too
skilful a runner to be stopped by trifles; he simply kicked the "snake"
out of his way, and hurried on to the long house of the chief.

Now this Indian settlement into which the runner had come was the
Pow-ha-tan village of Wero-woco-moco, and was the one in which the old
chief Wa-bun-so-na-cook usually resided. Here was the long council-house
in which the chieftains of the various tribes in the confederacy met for
counsel and for action, and here, too, was the "long tenement-house" in
which the old chief and his immediate family lived.

It was into this dwelling that the runner dashed. In a group about the
central fire-pit he saw the chief. Even before he could himself stop his
headlong speed, however, his race with news came to an unexpected end.
The five fires were all surrounded by lolling Indians, for the weather
in that winter of 1607 was terribly cold, and an Indian, when inside his
house, always likes to get as near to the fire as possible. But down the
long passage-way the children were noisily playing at their games--at
gus-ka-eh, or "peach-pits," at gus-ga-e-sa-ta, or "deer-buttons," and
some of the younger boys were turning wonderful somersaults up