ying flat on his stomach, he gazed at the Englishman. He had
heard repeated about the village the night before the details of his
rescue as they had taken place within the ceremonial wigwam. Those who
told him were divided in their opinions; some looked upon Powhatan's
decision as a danger to them all, and others scouted the idea that those
palefaces were to be feared by warriors such as the Powhatans.
Claw-of-the-Eagle, however, did not waver in his belief: each of the
white strangers should be killed off as quickly as might be. His loyalty
to his adopted tribe was as great as if his forefathers had sat about
its council fires always. He was sorry that Pocahontas, much as she
pleased him, had persuaded her father to save the life of the first of
the palefaces that had fallen into his power. He believed The Powhatan
himself now regretted that he had yielded to affection and to an ancient
custom, and that he would gladly see his enemy dead, in order that the
news carried to his interloping countrymen might serve as a warning of
the fate that awaited them all.

Suppose then--the thought flashed through his brain--that he,
Claw-of-the-Eagle, should make this wish a fact! Powhatan would never
punish the doer of the deed.

He crept nearer still to the sleeping man, loosening the knife in his
girdle. There was no sound within the lodge, only the faint crooning of
Pocahontas without; yet something, some feeling of danger, aroused the
Englishman. Through his half-closed lids he scarce distinguished the
slowly advancing red body from the red earth over which it was moving.
But when the boy was close enough to touch him with the outstretched
hand. Smith opened his eyes wide. He did not move, did not cry out,
though he saw the knife in the long thin fingers; all he did was to fix
his gaze sternly upon the boy's face. Claw-of-the-Eagle tried to strike,
but with those fearless eyes upon him he could not move his arm.

Slowly, as he had come, he crawled back to the entrance, unable to turn
his head from the man who watched him. It was only when he was out in
the air again that he felt he could take a long breath.

"He is a good sleeper," was all he remarked.

"And doubtless he is as good an eater and will be hungry when he wakes.
Wilt thou not stop at our lodge, Claw-of-the-Eagle, and bid them bring
me food for him?"

He did as she asked, and shortly after the squaws arrived with earthen
dishes filled with bread and meat. They