on top of Jamestown!"

Mark, however, had already made out the two figures in the water so
close together that Argall's older eyes thought them but one. And just
as Claw-of-the-Eagle, hampered by his wounded shoulder, was about to
sink below the surface of the river to swim under water, Mark took aim.
The bullet hit the top of the head, gashing the skin about the
scalp-lock, but did not penetrate very deeply.

[Illustration: "DO NOT SHOOT, MARK!"]

Pocahontas saw that he was not badly wounded; but the blood running down
his face and into his mouth and nose made it impossible for him to
breathe deeply enough to swim under water. His weakness from his
other wound, too, made his motions slower. Before he would be able to
put a safe distance between him and the pinnace the sailor would have
fired again.

But he would not fire at her--the thought flashed through her brain!

With a few rapid strokes she had reached the brave and flung her arm
under his wounded shoulder, bearing him up.

"Now, Claw-of-the-Eagle," she cried, "let us make for the shore. They
will not dare fire at me."

And Argall and his men watched their hostage and the murderer of their
companions making their escape, while they seemed powerless to prevent
it. Though Claw-of-the-Eagle's strokes grew slower and slower,
Pocahontas's strength was aiding him. Once on shore, the Englishmen knew
that even though delayed by his wound, the two could hide so that no
white man could find them. Besides, it was likely that other Indians
might be lurking in the forest.

"Fooled! Fooled!" cried out Argall, hitting one fist against the other
in his disappointment.

But Mark was not one who willingly gave up a chase he had begun. He saw
that the two had reached a willow tree with roots that lay twisted about
each other across the surface of the river. For one second the youth and
maiden, close together, hung on to this natural shelf, gaining strength
to pull themselves up on to the ground. He realized how disastrous it
would be to injure the daughter of the Powhatan. Nevertheless, he
determined to take a chance.

To the horror of his captain, he took careful aim and fired. This time
the bullet found its mark--it hit the young brave in the back of his
head and penetrated the brain.

In horror Pocahontas tried to catch him in her arms before he sank
heavily, with no sound, out of sight. Gone! so quickly! Dead! The boy
who had been her friend, who had tried to save