“Powhatan, ruler of two hundred villages and lord of thirty tribes, who rulest from the salt water to the western forests, we come to tell thee how we have pursued thine enemies, the Massawomekes, who two months ago did slay in ambush a party of our young men out hunting deer.  By the Great Swamp (the Dismal Swamp of Virginia) we came upon them, and though they sought like bears to hide themselves in its secret places, lo!  I, Water Snake, did track them and I and my braves fell upon them, and now they are no more.”

Murmurs of assent and of approval were heard throughout the lodge.  The prisoners alone were apparently as unconscious of Water Snake’s recital as if they were still hidden in the fastnesses of the Great Swamp.

“There where we fought,” continued the orator, waving his hand towards the southwest, “the white blossoms of the creeping plants turned crimson, and the hungry buzzards circled overhead.  Many a Massawomeke squaw sits to-night in a lonely wigwam; many a man child among them hath lost the father to teach him how to bend a bow.  We slew them all, Great Werowance, all but these captives we have brought before thee.”

This time louder shouts of approval rewarded Water Snake’s speech, which did not cease until it was seen that Powhatan meant to acknowledge it.  He did not rise nor change his position in any way, and his voice was low and measured.

“A tree hath many branches, but one trunk only.  Deep into the earth stretch its roots to suck up nourishment for every twig and leaf.  I, Wahunsunakuk, Chief of the Powhatans and many tribes, am the trunk, and one of my many branches is that of the Chickahominies and one that is very close to my heart.  My children have done well and the Powhatan thanks them for their brave deeds.  Now can your young braves go forth upon the hunt unharmed and bring back meat for feastings and hides for their squaws to fashion.”

He paused and all the eyes of his people in the lodge were bent on him with the same question.

“My children ask of me ‘What shall we do with these captives?’ and I make answer, feast them first, that they may not say that the Powhatans are greedy and give not to strangers.  Then when they have feasted let them run the gauntlet.”

He waved his hand in token that he had finished speaking, and the glad news was shouted from the lodge to the eager crowd without.  Pocahontas knew as well as if she could see them that the squaws were hurrying about to prepare the food, and from her low seat she could see between the legs of the braves before her how a number of boys were lying on their stomachs, trying to wriggle into the lodge that they might hear for themselves the interesting things going on and observe for themselves whether the captives showed any sign of fear.

Now Powhatan gave an order and all seated themselves on the ground or on mats in lines facing him.  Then in came the squaws bearing large wooden and grass-woven dishes of food.  There were hot cakes of maize and wild turkeys and fat raccoons.  The captives were served first and none of them refused.  They would not let their enemies believe that fear of their coming fate could spoil their appetites.  So, after throwing the first piece of meat into the fire as an offering to Okee, they ate eagerly.