of his pistol. They
stood like children in a thunderstorm, not knowing when or where the
bolt might strike.

But nothing terrible came to pass. Then Opechanchanough's curiosity was
aroused and he put out his hand for the watch. Smith, smiling, held it
towards him in his palm and then laid it against the chief's ear, saying
in the Pamunkey tongue: "Listen." Opechanchanough jumped with
astonishment and cried out:

"A spirit! A spirit! He hath a spirit imprisoned!"

Then one by one the captors crowded forward to look at the
"turtle-of-metal-that-hath-a-spirit," and many were the exclamations of
astonishment.

In order to increase this feeling of awe and to lengthen the delay,
though he did not know what he could even hope to happen. Smith felt in
his pocket again and brought out his travelling compass. It was of ivory
and the quivering needle was pronounced by Opechanchanough to be another
spirit.

But suddenly, without warning, two of the younger warriors, who had
evidently determined once for all to discover if this stranger were
vulnerable or not, seized Smith and dragging him swiftly to a tree,
threw a cord of deer thong about him, drawing it fast. Then they notched
their arrows and took aim at his heart. "In one second it will be over,"
thought Smith, "life, adventures, my ambitions and my troubles."

Then Opechanchanough called out to the braves, holding up the compass.
Frowning with disappointment, the young men loosed their captive and
Smith realized that it was again the chief's curiosity which had saved
his life. By means of such Indian words as he knew and by the further
aid of signs he endeavored to explain its usage.

"See," he said, pointing, "yon is the north whence comes popanow, the
winter; and there behind us lies cohattayough, the summer. I turn thus
and lo, the spirit in the needle loves the north and will not be kept
from it."

When all had looked at the compass, Opechanchanough took it again in his
hand, holding it gingerly as he would have held a papoose if a squaw had
given one to his care. This was something precious and he meant to keep
it, yet he did not know what it might do to him. At any rate, it would
be a good thing to take with him the man who did understand it.

"Come," he said, "since thou canst understand our words, come and eat in
the lodge of the Pamunkeys."

And Smith, ignorant of when death might fall upon him, followed. That
day they feasted him, and the half-starved En