mpanied Captain Smith to Jamestown, and he gave
her such news of the settlers as he had heard from the Indians who
loafed about Jamestown. They were on friendly terms with the white
men, who let them come and go at will as long as they were peaceful
and did not try to pilfer corn or firearms.

Winter came with its snow and zero weather, and Pocahontas heard of
great hunger and many privations among the colonists. She held a long
secret conversation with the Indian warrior who knew of her interest
in the pale-faced _Caucarouse_, then, at twilight of a bitter cold
day, she stole out from her wigwam, met the warrior at the beginning
of the Jamestown trail, and after carefully examining the store of
provisions which she had commanded him to bring, she plunged into the
gloomy wood trail with her escort, hurrying along the rough path in
the darkness, until she reached the rough stockade guarding the
entrance to the settlement.

The man on watch, who had heard many glowing descriptions of the
maiden who had saved his Captain's life, recognized her at once and
admired her exceedingly as she stood there in her dusky imperiousness,
demanding to see the Captain. Astonished, but pleased at her coming,
Smith quickly came to greet her and was enthusiastic in his thanks for
the provisions she had brought. Then by the flare of a torch he showed
his eager guest as much of their little village as could be seen in
the fast-falling darkness, enjoying her questions and her keen
interest in such buildings and articles as she had never seen before.
She responded to the Englishmen's cordiality with shy, appreciative
glances and would have liked to linger, but it was too late for her to
remain longer, and the colonists crowded around her with expressions
of regret that she must leave and renewed thanks for her gifts. Then
Pocahontas and her Indian escort started back toward Werewocomoco,
taking the trail with flying feet that her absence might not be
discovered.

From that day she often found her way to Jamestown, carrying stores of
provisions from her father's well-filled larder, sometimes going in
broad daylight, with rosy cheeks and flying hair, after her morning
swim in the river, at other times starting out on her errand of mercy
at twilight, always protected by a faithful warrior who was on terms
of intimacy with the settlers and felt a deep pride in their
admiration for Pocahontas, whom they called "The Little Angel," and
well they m