She waited anxiously, her eyes and ears
strained for the sound of the messengers returning.

An hour or so later she beheld in the distance two tall figures
approaching, and she sprang ashore from the boat, crying:

"Nautauquas! Catanaugh!" as her two brothers hurried to meet her.

"Is it indeed our little Matoaka?" asked Nautauquas, "and unharmed and
well?"

He looked at her critically, as if seeking to discover some great change
in her.

"We feared we knew not what evil medicine they might have used against
thee, little Snow Feather. How have they dealt with thee in thy
captivity?"

"But fear no longer," cried Catanaugh, whose glance was fixed upon the
canoe of the palefaces; "we shall rescue thee now if we have to kill
every one of them yonder to get thee free."

"Nay, my brothers," said Pocahontas, laying her hand gently on his
sinewy arm, "they are my friends, and they have treated me well. Look!
am I wasted with starvation or broken with torture? Harm them not. I am
come to plead with our father to make peace with them. It is as if yon
tree should plead with the sky and the earth not to quarrel, since both
are dear to it. The English are a great nation. Let us be friends with
them."

"Have they bewitched thee, Matoaka?" asked Catanaugh sternly. "Hast thou
forgot thy father's lodge now that thou hast dwelt among these
strangers?"

"Nay, Brother, but...."

Nautauquas was quick to notice Pocahontas's confusion and the blush that
stole over her soft dark cheek.

"I think," he said, smiling at her, "that our little Sister hath a story
to tell us. Let us sit here beneath the trees, as we so often sat when
we were wearied hunting, and listen to her words."

It was not easy at first for Pocahontas to explain how it had come
about. But as she sat there on the warm brown pine needles, snuggled
closely against Nautauquas's shoulder, she found courage to tell of the
strong, fine Englishman who had taught her so much, and how one day he
had asked her to become his squaw after the manner of the white people.
She told them also how Sir Thomas Dale, the Governor, had willingly
given his consent.

"Believe ye not," she concluded, looking eagerly first at one and then
the other of her brothers, "that our father will make peace for my sake
with the nation to which my brave belongeth?"

Catanaugh said nothing, but Nautauquas laid his hand on his sister's arm
and looked her in the eyes searchingly:

"Art thou happ