water.

We landed, dragging the canoes into a covert of overhanging bushes and
fastening them there; then struck through the pines toward the rising
ground, and presently came to a large village, with many long huts,
and a great central lodge where dwelt the emperors when they came to
Uttamussac. It was vacant now, Opechancanough being no man knew where.

When the usual stately welcome had been extended to the Paspaheghs, and
when they had returned as stately thanks, the werowance began a harangue
for which I furnished the matter. When he ceased to speak a great
acclamation and tumult arose, and I thought they would scarce wait for
the morrow. But it was late, and their werowance and conjurer restrained
them. In the end the men drew off, aud the yelling of the children
and the passionate cries of the women, importunate for vengeance,
were stilled. A guard was placed around the vacant lodge, and we two
Englishmen were taken within and bound down to great logs, such as the
Indians use to roll against their doors when they go from home.

There was revelry in the village; for hours after the night came,
everywhere were bright firelight and the rise and fall of laughter and
song. The voices of the women were musical, tender, and plaintive, and
yet they waited for the morrow as for a gala day. I thought of a woman
who used to sing, softly and sweetly, in the twilight at Weyanoke, in
the firelight at the minister's house. At last the noises ceased, the
light died away, and the village slept beneath a heaven that seemed
somewhat deaf and blind.

CHAPTER XXXI IN WHICH NANTAUQUAS COMES TO OUR RESCUE

A MAN who hath been a soldier and an adventurer into far and strange
countries must needs have faced Death many times and in many guises. I
had learned to know that grim countenance, and to have no great fear of
it. And beneath the ugliness of the mask that now presented itself there
was only Death at last. I was no babe to whimper at a sudden darkness,
to cry out against a curtain that a Hand chose to drop between me and
the life I had lived. Death frighted me not, but when I thought of one
whom I should leave behind me I feared lest I should go mad. Had this
thing come to me a year before, I could have slept the night through;
now--now--I lay, bound to the log, before the open door of the lodge,
and, looking through it, saw the pines waving in the night wind and the
gleam of the river beneath the stars, and saw her as pl