It was on a wintry day that Pocahontas made her first visit to the colony.  Though they might lack most of the necessities of life, there was no scarcity of fuel.  A huge bonfire was blazing at an open space where two streets were destined to meet in the future.  Over some embers pulled away from the centre of the flame a pitch-kettle was heating and its owners, while waiting for its contents to melt, were warming a small piece of dried sturgeon.  Around the bonfire sat John Smith and several gentlemen.  He was pointing out to them on a rough chart the direction in which he thought the town should spread out when a new influx of colonists would need shelter.  There were carpenters working on a house a few feet away, but their hammer blows did not ring out lustily as they should do when men are building with hope a new habitation; there was but little strength left in their arms.

When Smith looked up from his chart to indicate where a certain line should run, he saw standing before him the young Indian who had brought him Pocahontas’s greeting after the night journey through the forest and who, he now realized, was the same fierce youth who had attempted his life at Werowocomoeo.

Claw-of-the-Eagle spoke: 

“Werowance of the white men, Princess Pocahontas sends me to inform thee that she hath come to visit thee.  E’en now she and her maidens await thee at the fort.”

“She is most welcome,” cried Smith, springing up.  Then he called out in English:  “Come, friends, and help me receive the daughter of Powhatan, who did save me at the risk of her own life.  Give her a hearty English welcome.”

[Illustration:  “I WILL LEAD THE PRINCESS”]

The colonists needed no urging.  They were eager to see what an Indian princess looked like.  But Smith outran them all and at the sight of the bright girlish face he stretched out his hands towards her as he would have done to an English maiden he knew well.

“Ah! little friend,” he said coaxingly, “thou wilt not be angry with me longer.  How much dost thou desire to make me owe thee, Pocahontas, my life, my freedom, my return home and now this pleasure?”

Pocahontas only smiled.  Smith then turned, waving his hand to the men who had followed him.

“These, my comrades, would thank thee too could they but speak thy tongue.”

The hats of cavaliers and the caps of the workmen were all doffed, and Pocahontas acknowledged their courtesy with great dignity.

“Let us show our guests our town,” suggested Smith, “even though it lack as yet palaces and bazaars filled with gorgeous raiment.  I will lead the princess; do ye care for her maidens and the young brave.”  As they walked along the path from the fort to Jamestown’s one street he asked:  “Tell me, my little jailor, how came The Powhatan to set me free?  I have wondered every day since, and I cannot understand.  Thou didst prevail with him, was it not so?”