ht have had much comfort
in Nantauquas, but the morning after our arrival in this village the
Emperor sent him upon an embassy to the Rappahannocks, and when for
the fourth time the forest stood black against the sunset he had not
returned. If escape had been possible, we would not have awaited the
doubtful fulfillment of that promise made to us below the Uttamussac
temples. But the vigilance of the Indians never slept; they watched us
like hawks, night and day. And the dry leaves underfoot would not hold
their peace, and there were the marshes to cross and the river.

Thus four days dragged themselves by, and in the early morning of the
fifth, when we came from our wigwam, it was to find Nantauquas sitting
by the fire, magnificent in the paint and trappings of the ambassador,
motionless as a piece of bronze, and apparently quite unmindful of the
admiring glances of the women who knelt about the fire preparing our
breakfast. When he saw us he rose and came to meet us, and I embraced
him, I was so glad to see him. "The Rappahannocks feasted me long," he
said. "I was afraid that Captain Percy would be gone to Jamestown before
I was back upon the Pamunkey."

"Shall I ever see Jamestown again, Nantauquas?" I demanded. "I have my
doubts."

He looked me full in the eyes, and there was no doubting the candor of
his own. "You go with the next sunrise," he answered. "Opechancanough
has given me his word."

"I am glad to hear it," I said. "Why have we been kept at all? Why did
he not free us five days agone?"

He shook his head. "I do not know. Opechancanough has many thoughts
which he shares with no man. But now he will send you with presents for
the Governor, and with messages of his love to the white men. There will
be a great feast to-day, and to-night the young men and maidens will
dance before you. Then in the morning you will go."

"Will you not come with us?" I asked. "You are ever welcome amongst us,
Nantauquas, both for your sister's sake and for your own. Rolfe will
rejoice to have you with him again; he ever grudgeth you to the forest."

He shook his head again. "Nantauquas, the son of Powhatan, hath had much
talk with himself lately," he said simply. "The white men's ways have
seemed very good to him, and the God of the white men he knows to be
greater than Okee, and to be good and tender; not like Okee, who sucks
the blood of the children. He remembers Matoax, too, and how she loved
and cared for the white m