my Brother?" she asked as he sat down and, taking off his
moccasins, let his heated feet hang into the stream.

"Evil news it is," he answered gravely, "for the friends of the great
Captain."

"What hath befallen my white Brother?" she cried out; "tell me
speedily."

"He was sleeping in his boat, I heard, far off from their island. A big
bag of the powder they put into their guns lay in the bottom of his
canoe, and when by chance a spark from his pipe fell upon it it grew
angry and began to spit and burned his flesh till it waked him, and in
his agony, he sprang into the river to quench the blaze."

Pocahontas, who had not winced at the thought of the brained Dutchmen,
shivered.

"Where is he now?" she asked. "I wish to go to him."

Nautauquas looked at her earnestly as if he would question her, but did
not. "They say he is on his way to Jamestown and should reach there on
the morrow."

As Pocahontas and Nautauquas returned at sunset to Werowocomoco, the
girl stopped at Wansutis's lodge.

"Thou comest for healing herbs for thy white man," exclaimed the old
woman before Pocahontas had spoken a word. "I have them here ready for
thee," and she thrust a bundle into the astonished maiden's hands.
"But," continued the hag, "though they would cure any of our people,
they will not have power with the white man's malady save he have faith
in them."

Then she went back into the gloom of her lodge and Pocahontas walked
away in silence.

It was not Pocahontas whom Wansutis wished to aid, but the white
Captain. The old woman had never spoken to him, or of him to others; but
she had listened eagerly to all the tales told of his powers. She was
sure that he possessed magic knowledge beyond that of her own people,
and she waited for the day when she might persuade him to impart some of
his medicine to herself. The fact that he was now injured and in danger
did not change her opinion. Some medicine was better for certain
troubles than for others. Perhaps her herbs in this case would be
stronger than his own magic.

Before the night was over Pocahontas had started on her way to
Jamestown. She went alone, since somehow she did not wish to chatter
with a companion. The thunder storms had cooled the air and softened the
earth. It was still early in the morning when she reached the town, now
grown to be a settlement of fifty houses. On the wharf she saw men
hurrying back and forth to the ship, fastened by stout hawsers to the