Such a possibility was an exciting one, and she would have been glad to let her mind explore it fully; but her eyes were heavy and the pine needles soft and fragrant, and soon the beaver, who from a hollow beneath the exposed roots of the oak over the stream had been watching her bright eyes, seeing them closed, slipped forth to begin again his work on the dam her feet had flattened out.

Though Nautauquas, returning an hour later from a peaceful mission to a confederated tribe, made scarcely more noise than the beaver, Pocahontas awoke and raised her head and loosening the needles from her hair, sprang up.

“Greetings, Matoaka!” called out her brother.  “Thou wert as snugly hidden here as a deer.”

“What news, my Brother?” she asked as he sat down and, taking off his moccasins, let his heated feet hang into the stream.

“Evil news it is,” he answered gravely, “for the friends of the great Captain.”

“What hath befallen my white Brother?” she cried out; “tell me speedily.”

“He was sleeping in his boat, I heard, far off from their island.  A big bag of the powder they put into their guns lay in the bottom of his canoe, and when by chance a spark from his pipe fell upon it it grew angry and began to spit and burned his flesh till it waked him, and in his agony, he sprang into the river to quench the blaze.”

Pocahontas, who had not winced at the thought of the brained Dutchmen, shivered.

“Where is he now?” she asked.  “I wish to go to him.”

Nautauquas looked at her earnestly as if he would question her, but did not.  “They say he is on his way to Jamestown and should reach there on the morrow.”

As Pocahontas and Nautauquas returned at sunset to Werowocomoco, the girl stopped at Wansutis’s lodge.

“Thou comest for healing herbs for thy white man,” exclaimed the old woman before Pocahontas had spoken a word.  “I have them here ready for thee,” and she thrust a bundle into the astonished maiden’s hands.  “But,” continued the hag, “though they would cure any of our people, they will not have power with the white man’s malady save he have faith in them.”

Then she went back into the gloom of her lodge and Pocahontas walked away in silence.

It was not Pocahontas whom Wansutis wished to aid, but the white Captain.  The old woman had never spoken to him, or of him to others; but she had listened eagerly to all the tales told of his powers.  She was sure that he possessed magic knowledge beyond that of her own people, and she waited for the day when she might persuade him to impart some of his medicine to herself.  The fact that he was now injured and in danger did not change her opinion.  Some medicine was better for certain troubles than for others.  Perhaps her herbs in this case would be stronger than his own magic.