“What dost thou behold, son of Wansutis?” she asked.

He started but did not reply.

“Speak, Claw-of-the-Eagle,” she said impatiently.  “Powhatan’s daughter is not wont to wait for a reply.”

He saw that it was the same face he had beheld peering into the lodge at the moment he regained consciousness.

“I see the sinking sun.  Princess of many tribes, the sun that journeys towards the mountains to the village whence I came.”

“But thou art of us now,” she rejoined.

“Yes, I am son of old Wansutis and I am loyal to my new mother and to my new people.  And yet.  Princess, I send each day a message by the sun to the lodge where they mourn Claw-of-the-Eagle.  Perhaps it will reach them.”

“Tell me of the mountains and of the ways of thy father’s people.  I long to learn of strange folk and different customs.”

“Nay, Princess, I will not speak of them.  Thou hast never bidden farewell to thy kindred forever.  I would forget, not remember.”

And Pocahontas, although it was almost the first time that any one had refused to obey her, was not angry.  She was too occupied as she walked homeward wondering how it would seem if she were never to see Werowocomoco and her own people again.

[Illustration:  Decorative]

CHAPTER V

THE GREAT BIRDS

Opechanchanough, brother of Wahunsunakuk, The Powhatan, had sent to Werowocomoco a boat full of the finest deep sea oysters and crabs.  The great werowance had returned his thanks to his brother and the bearers of his gifts were just leaving when Pocahontas rushed in to her father’s lodge half breathless with eagerness.

“Father,” she cried, “I pray thee grant me this pleasure.  It hath grown warm, and I and my maidens long for the cool air that abideth by the salty water.  Therefore, I beseech thee, let us go to mine uncle for a few days’ visit.”

Powhatan did not answer at once.  He did not like to have his favorite child leave him.  But she, seeing that he was undecided, began to plead, to whisper in his ears words of affection and to stroke his hair till he gave his consent.  Then Pocahontas ran off to get her long mantle and her finest string of beads and to summon the maidens who were to accompany her.  They embarked in the dugout with her uncle’s people and were rowed swiftly down the river.

At Kecoughtan they were received with much ceremony, for Pocahontas knew what was due her and how, when it was necessary, to put aside her childish manner for one more dignified.  Opechanchanough greeted her kindly.

“Hast thou forgiven me, my uncle?” she asked as they sat down to a feast of the delicious little fish she always begged for when she visited him, and to steaks of bear meat; “hast thou forgiven the arrow I shot at thee last popanow?”

“I will remember naught unpleasant against thee, little kinswoman,” he replied as he drank his cup of walnut milk.