re it to the Governor. The Governor drew two or
three tremendous whiffs and passed it on to Colonel Verney, who in his
turn transferred it to the Surveyor-General. When the monster pipe had
been smoked by each of the white men, it went the round of the savages.
An Indian summer haze began to settle around the company. Through it the
patient gazing throng on the outskirts of the circle became shadowy,
impalpable; the face of the half king, now hidden in shifting smoke
wreaths, now darkly visible, like that of an eastern idol before whom
incense is burned. There was no sound save the wash of the waters below
them, the sighing of the wind, the drone of the cicadas in the trees.
The Indians sat like statues, but the white men were more restive. The
elders managed to restrain their impatience, but Laramore began to
whistle, and when checked by a look from the Governor, turned to Sir
Charles with a comically disconsolate face and a shrug of the shoulders.
Whereupon the latter drew from his pocket, dice and a handful of gold
pieces. Laramore's face brightened, and the two, screened from
observation by the Colonel's shoulders, which were of the broadest, fell
to playing noiselessly, cursing beneath their breath. Mr. Peyton leaned
his elbow on his knee, and his chin upon his hand, and allowed the
dreamy beauty of the afternoon to overflow a poetic soul.

At length, and when the patience of the whites was well-nigh exhausted,
the pipe came back to where the half king sat with lowered eyes and
impassive face. He laid it down beside him and rose to his feet,
gathering his mantle around him.

"My white fathers are welcome," he said in a sonorous voice. "Very
welcome to the Chickahominies is the face of the white father, who rules
in the place of the great white father across the sea. Their corn feast
is not yet, and yet my people rejoice. Our hearts were glad when my
father sent word that he would this day visit his faithful
Chickahominies. Our ears are open: let my father speak."

"I thank Harquip and his people for their welcome," said the Governor
coldly. "I have ever found them full of words. They profess loyalty to
the great white father beyond the seas, but they forget his good laws
and disobey his officers. I am weary of their words."

"Tell me," said Harquip, with a sombre face, "are they good laws which
drive us from our hunting grounds? Are they good laws which take from us
our maize fields? Does the great white father