While Mistress Audley's spirits were somewhat revived by Captain Layton's assurances, she received a message from the governor, requesting her to act the hostess to the Indian princess just arrived with her father. This she could not refuse; and Lettice and Cicely were well pleased with the thoughts of having the Indian maiden under their care. Accordingly word was sent to the governor that they were willing to receive her as their guest. In a short time Pocahontas arrived, still seated on her litter, with Harry Rolfe by her side. Mistress Audley, with Lettice and Cicely, went forth to meet her, and taking her hand as the bearers placed the litter on the ground, helped her to rise, and led her into the house, followed by Harry Rolfe, who seemed unwilling to give up the charge of the damsel even to them. The beautiful young savage, for such, in the presence of the English matron and the two young maidens, she truly seemed, cast looks of admiration at their fair features, and their dresses, which appeared to her of wondrous texture. Although they could exchange but a few words with her, they were able with the assistance of Harry Rolfe to answer her questions; and in a short time she appeared perfectly at home with them.

At length she asked whether they were Harry's sisters, and hearing that they were not so was silent, looking up first to one, and then to the other, and then towards Harry himself; and it could be easily seen that her brain was busy though her tongue was silent. A hut had been prepared for the chief, suitable to his wants, though bearing little resemblance to a royal palace. He came the next day to see his daughter, and appeared to be so well pleased with the treatment she received, that he intimated to the governor his intention of leaving her for a while with her new friends. His proposal was gladly accepted, as it proved his good feelings towards the English, and the confidence he placed in them. Captain Layton and Vaughan, with the assistance of Harry Rolfe, had a long talk with him. Regarding Captain Audley he promised to make inquiries among the tribes of his nation. While they were speaking, the head of the party sent out to follow the trail of the Indians who had carried off Gilbert and Fenton arrived. He and his people had traced them, he said, far to the north, when they found themselves in the country of a hostile tribe, from among whom they had great difficulty in escaping. On hearing this, Powhattan was exceedingly wroth, and threatened to punish the Annaboles, the tribe spoken of, who owed him, he affirmed, allegiance. Rolfe, however, entreated that he would employ mild measures, lest the Annaboles might retaliate on their two prisoners. This information was on the whole unsatisfactory. Gilbert and Fenton might, it was hoped, be still alive, but that they had been carried to a distance was certain, and their recovery would be difficult, as Powhattan, notwithstanding his boasted power, could, it was clear, afford them no assistance.

"It seems to me, Vaughan, that we must trust to our own strong arms and mother-wit to recover the two lads," observed Captain Layton, when they had parted from the chief. "What say you, Roger?"

"I hold to your opinion, father; if we could get together some thirty trusty fellows, and the means of carrying our provisions, we would march from one end of the country to the other, and compel those knavish Indians at the point of our swords to deliver up their prisoners," answered Roger; "we might then, perchance, fall in also with Captain Audley, if he is, as I trust, still in the land of the living."

"Those 'ifs' and 'ans' are stubborn things," observed the captain.

"We might, however, manage to carry provisions on our shoulders for a week or more," said Roger, "and thus be enabled to march for three or four days inland from the shore, and back again without the need of hunting, provided we could keep in the open country, and not get entangled among forests or rocky defiles where our foes might pick us off without our being able to reach them."

"I know not whether we should gain much by that, unless we could manage to surprise an Indian village, and capture some of their chief men to hold as hostages till they agreed to give up their captives. These Indians are very different to the cowardly tribes we have been wont to meet with on the Spanish Main, as experience should already have taught you," observed the captain: "still, with discipline and determination we shall be able, I doubt not, to tackle them. I like your proposal, however, and as soon as we can get a crew together, we will sail up the Chesapeake and try what we can do."

Vaughan, grieved by the long, though unavoidable, delay which had already occurred, was willing to take part in any plan his friends proposed, and they accordingly at once set to work to collect a crew for the expedition. They had, however, except the promise of good pay, no inducements to offer. Had they proposed an expedition to the Spanish Main they would speedily have collected as many men as they required; but as only hard knocks were to be expected, without the chance of prize-money, those who would have had no objection to the two combined hung back. The captain at length, in despair, promised that if men would come forward, and they should succeed in their enterprise, he would take a cruise in search of Spaniards, and that the prizes taken should be divided equally among all hands. This offer was likely enough to have succeeded, when a party who had been out hunting returned full of excitement, with the news that they had discovered a vein of gold, or as some said a mine, at a stream some six miles distant from James Town. The news spread like wildfire through the settlement, and every one was eager to be off with spades and pickaxes to gather up the golden treasure. The seamen who had engaged to serve on board the Rainbow were among the first to be off; those who were labouring in the fields left their ploughs; the few who had opened shops closed their doors and set out, for there were no buyers of their wares.

The governor and admiral, and a few other officers, remained at their posts. Captain Layton, in very vexation of spirit, refused to go even to look at the mines, declaring that "all is not gold that glitters;" and it might be, after all, this seeming gold was no better than dross; or that if gold it was, it would stay there till he had time to go and fetch it. Roger and Vaughan were of his opinion; indeed, neither would have left those they were bound to protect, were it to prove as rich as the mines of Peru and Mexico. Some days had passed away, when some of the explorers came dropping in, their backs heavily laden with sacks full, as they said, of gold-dust.

"Mixed with not a little dross, I guess," observed Captain Layton, who met Ben Tarbox staggering along under as heavy a load as he had ever attempted to carry in his life. "Let us see, let us see thy precious gold-dust," he exclaimed. Ben, letting the sack drop on the ground, produced a handful. The evening sun was shining brightly, and the dust undoubtedly glittered.

"I have seen stuff like that before," observed Roger, who just then came up, "and what do you think it was worth, lads?—not the pains of moving from where it lay."

"They say it be gold," exclaimed Ben, looking somewhat aghast; "gold glitters, and so does this."

"There the resemblance ends, my lad," observed Captain Layton. "If no better gold is to be got out of the mine up there than thy sack contains, the settlers have lost many a day's work, and the colony is so much the poorer; though, from all accounts, it is not seldom they have thrown away their time before."

"Then what can I do with this sackful of stuff?" exclaimed Ben, who, having unbounded confidence in his captain, fully believed what he said.

"Sell it to the first fool who will buy it of thee for what he thinks it is worth," answered the captain, laughing. "Make thy bargain when the sun shines, though, or he may chance to set a low value on it."

Ben, it was supposed, followed his captain's advice, for the next day at noon he appeared on board the Rainbow without his sack, but chinking some Spanish pesos in his pocket.

Captain Layton, as did the governor, the admiral, and Master Hunt, the chaplain, warned those who returned of the utter worthlessness of the stuff they had brought, but they were not believed; and the idea got abroad that their object was to appropriate it, and thus to gain the benefit of their labours. Most of them, therefore, as soon as they had deposited their treasure in such places of security as they could find, set off for a fresh supply; while the boldest speculator proposed to charter two or three of the remaining ships, and send them home loaded with the precious dust.

The first addressed himself to Captain Layton, offering him a cargo for the Rainbow.

"There are two reasons against accepting your proposal, good sir," answered the captain; "the first is that I have other occupation for my ship, and the second is that I have no wish to become the laughing-stock of people at home, should I arrive with a shipload of dust not worth carting on shore."

Thereat Master Jarvis turned away, highly indignant, remarking, "Fools know not their own interest." The captain smiled, but replied not, recollecting that to answer an angry man is but adding oil to the fire. Master Jarvis was more successful with the captains of two other ships, which, as fast as the toiling settlers could bring in their sacks of dust, took them on board, the vessels being filled up with sassafras and other woods, and a few small packages of tobacco, all deemed, however, but of little value compared to the glittering dirt, as Captain Layton called it. There was no lack of volunteers to man the ships, as all were promised shares in the proceeds of the cargoes. Not till they had sailed could Captain Layton obtain a crew for the Rainbow. He summoned the remaining mariners in the settlement, who, already grown weary of tobacco-planting and digging, and their backs aching with the sacks of dust they had brought from the mine, were ready for any fresh adventure proposed to them.

"Lads," he said, "there are two things I have set myself to do: first, to look for the honourable gentleman who has been held captive for many years by the Indians; as also for his son and young Master Fenton; and when we have found them, to go in search of two or more Spanish ships, which will put more gold into the pockets of each one of us than will all the dust you have just sent home."

It might be that the remarks of the governor and admiral, and more especially those of Captain Smith, had by this time begun to open the eyes of the settlers as to the real value of the said dust. One thing was certain, that had they devoted their labours to the production of corn instead of to the digging and carrying of the glittering soil, they would not have been so hard-pressed as they now were. Those who had come from the Bermudas recollected the ample supply of provisions those islands afforded. The good admiral, Sir George Summers, offered, though now sixty years of age, to sail in the Patience, the stout pinnace he had built, and to bring back a supply for the benefit of the colony. He asked but for a score of men to accompany him; a few faithful hearts obeyed his call, and with the hopes of finding their wants speedily relieved, the colonists saw that true knight sail away on his hazardous voyage. Alas! they were to see him no more; overcome by the hard toil he had so long endured for the good of others, he had not long arrived when he yielded up his brave spirit at those islands, which were, rightly, for many years called after his name.

The appeal made by Captain Layton was not in vain. Ben Tarbox was the first volunteer, and others followed his lead. "And what, Senor Nicholas, are you not going to join us?" asked Ben of his old messmate Flowers, who winced, Ben observed, whenever thus addressed. "Art not to be tempted by the prospect of fighting the Dons, man, and pocketing some of their gold? Thou canst speak their lingo, for I have heard thee talk it in thy sleep."

"I have had enough of fighting in my time, and have come out here to end my days in peace," answered Flowers.

"Thou wouldst end them with a better conscience by repenting of thy misdeeds and doing a worthy act to prove thy sincerity," answered Ben. His arguments, however, could not move his former messmate, who refused to the last to accompany him. Vaughan was doubtful whether he ought to stay for the protection of his mother and sister and Cicely, seeing that Captain Layton was going away, or to accompany him in search of his father and brother; but the governor and Captain Smith promised to defend them whatever might happen, and even Mistress Audley urged him to go. Captain Layton could ill spare one good man and true, for with all his exertions he had been able to collect barely a sufficient number of followers for his object; and Vaughan, though brought up at college, had a strong arm and a stout heart, and he might, should the first part of the enterprise prove successful, return to the settlement without the necessity of sailing forth again to fight the Spaniards.

Thus the Rainbow sailed down the river, under the command of Captain Layton, with Roger and Vaughan as his lieutenants; and young Andrew Dane, who had begged hard to be allowed to go.

In the mean time, the Indian princess, as the settlers called her, was rapidly learning English and becoming accustomed to English ways and manners; but the period during which her father had promised to allow her to remain was drawing to a close, when he had said he would return to take her back to her home. Harry Rolfe was a frequent visitor at the house, as also was Captain Smith, who owing his life to her, could not fail to regard her with gratitude, if with no other feeling; but she was in age compared to him a mere child, and might have been his daughter. Still, when he came to the house, Mrs Audley had some doubts as to the sentiments he entertained towards the Indian girl; nor could she discover how Pocahontas regarded him. Still, it did not become her to speak to him on the subject; but when the story became known of the way Pocahontas had saved the life of the brave captain, it was generally reported that he would certainly, should Powhattan permit it, make her his wife, and Harry Rolfe often heard the matter discussed. The governor was naturally well pleased at the thoughts of such an event taking place, as it would, he hoped, secure the friendship of Powhattan, and the active support of his tribe. Harry Rolfe had at first been struck by the unusual beauty of the Indian girl, and had become deeply enamoured. How matters would have gone had Lettice regarded him with that affection he once sought, it is hard to say; but his cousin, though she received him in a friendly manner, treated him, it was evident, with indifference, and at length he was fain to acknowledge that his happiness depended on making the Indian girl his wife. Could he, however, hope to win her, should his commander, the bravest and wisest man in the settlement as all acknowledged, regard her with affection; if so, he might yield to him who had the prior claim, and he would go on board the first ship sailing, to make war on the Spaniards, or would engage in any desperate enterprise afoot.

It happened that day that Pocahontas, who, though an Indian princess, had the fancies and foibles of many of her sex, had taken it into her head that she would be dressed as her companions. Cicely's gown was too short and somewhat too wide; and Lettice, willing to please her, dressed her in the best she possessed; putting on her a hat with feathers in it. Scarcely had the three damsels appeared in the parlour, when who should arrive but Captain Smith, Mistress Audley coming in directly afterwards. He gazed with more astonishment than admiration at the young Indian, for the costume, though becoming enough to the fair complexion of Lettice, sat but ill on the Indian girl, accustomed to the free play of her limbs; its colour harmonising worse with her dark skin. Forgetting the progress Pocahontas had made in English, he said with slight caution to Mistress Audley, in his blunt fashion, "You will spoil the little savage, Madam, if she is thus allowed to be made ridiculous by being habited in the dress of a civilised dame. I owe her a debt of gratitude for saving my life; but that does not blind me to her faults, and the sooner she is sent back to her father the better for her, I opine."

"My daughter simply wished to please her, and it is but a harmless freak," answered Mistress Audley, "though I acknowledge that her Indian costume becomes her best."

Pocahontas, who had understood something of what was said, casting an angry look at the captain, burst into tears—then, taking the hand of Lettice, she rushed out of the room.

"I had no intention of offending her," said Captain Smith, "but her manner proves that if she stays much longer here she will be spoilt."

"Heaven forbid!" said Mistress Audley; "our great wish is not only to instruct her in English manners, but to teach her the simple truths of the Gospel, that she may assist in imparting them to her benighted countrymen, and for that purpose I would fain keep her here as long as her father will allow her to stay. Master Hunt is assisting us in the work, which God's grace alone can accomplish, we being but weak instruments in His hands."

"That alters the case," observed the captain. "If you have any hope of success by all means keep her with you, but let her not indulge the fancy that a silk dress will enable her to become like an English maiden of high degree."

Mistress Audley promised to follow the captain's advice. Cicely put in a word in favour of their guest.

"Well," observed the captain, "I leave it with you, kind ladies, to make my peace with her;" and before Pocahontas returned he had taken his departure. Soon afterwards Harry Rolfe appeared; the agitation of her feelings had brought the colour into the face of the Indian girl, who he thought looked more lovely than ever, habited as she now was in her native costume. His eye showed this, if his words did not, and she understood him.

"You would not laugh at me," she said, in her artless way, "if I were to dress as your countrywomen; and such I wish to become;" and Rolfe told her honestly that in his eyes she would be lovely however habited. She showed her satisfaction in a way he could not mistake; he left the house convinced that her heart was his. Soon afterwards, meeting Captain Smith, he frankly told him of his love for the Indian maiden, adding, "But should you, my dear friend, entertain thoughts of her, I am resolved to quit the country and seek my fortune elsewhere."

"Stay and be happy with her," was the answer, "if wedding with one who is half a savage can make you so."

Whereat Master Rolfe, thanking the captain from his heart, assured him that so rapid was the progress she had made that ere many weeks were over she would be fit company for the proudest dames in England, and much more of the same nature; at which the captain smiled, and patting him on the back, assured him that it mattered not, provided Mistress Audley and her fair daughter, who were the proudest dames in Virginia, were content to treat her as their friend.

So Harry Rolfe went back and asked Pocahontas in plain language to become his bride, to which she willingly consented, telling him to let her settle the matter with her father. Harry Rolfe looked forward with no little anxiety to the arrival of the king, who came at length, attended by fifty warriors; at which the prudent governor, not knowing how many might be behind, got all the men in the settlement under arms, as if to do him honour, but secretly keeping a strict watch on his movements. He was convinced, however, that the king's intentions were honest, the more so when, after visiting his daughter, he announced that she had his full permission to marry the English chief, Harry Rolfe. As Master Hunt, after consulting with the governor, was willing to perform the ceremony, the marriage took place before Powhattan quitted James Town, much to the satisfaction of all the colonists. The long harangue delivered by Powhattan need not be repeated, nor need the replies of the governor, Captain Smith, and the happy bridegroom. He, being no sluggard, had built a house for himself, to which he at once took his bride. Flags were hoisted, guns were fired, and the bell of the church (hung to the bough of a tree, as there was no steeple yet built) rang right merrily, and the people shouted till they were hoarse, believing that from henceforth war with the Indians was at an end, and that they might go on and prosper in the land.



CHAPTER NINE.

The Rainbow was some time making her way down the river, and we may be sure that Lettice and Cicely watched her till her white canvas was no longer to be seen amid the tall trees which lined its banks; and that Vaughan's eyes, at all events, as he stood on the poop, gazed back till their figures faded from sight. Roger was too much engaged in the navigation of the ship to take more now and again than a hurried look astern: he knew his duty too well to neglect it, even for that; for there were shoals to be avoided, and sails to be trimmed to catch the fickle wind.

Hampton Roads were not reached till dark, when the Rainbow had to bring up till the following morning. A bright look-out was kept during the night lest any Spaniard or other stranger might enter the harbour, and, finding a solitary ship, venture to attack her. At dawn, anchor was weighed, and the breeze being fair, Old Comfort Point was rounded, and the Rainbow steered northward up the broad Chesapeake. The lead was kept going, for Captain Layton desired to keep as close to the shore as prudence would permit; while Vaughan noted down each point and bay, and the mouth of every stream and inlet they passed.

"Dost know the look of this coast, Ben?" asked Roger, as he saw Tarbox gazing eagerly at the shore.

"Ay, marry do I, sir," answered the old sailor; "for we sailed up and down it for many a league in the Sally Rose, and I thought when I came to see it again I should not forget it."

"But you said the same when we sailed up James River," remarked Roger.

"And it is my belief that I once went up that also, with brave Sir Richard Grenville in his pinnace; but I was somewhat mazed about the matter, and when Nicholas Flowers, who had been with me in the Sally Rose, said he knew the place, I thought I must know it too; but now I come to see this coast, I find out that I was then wrong and am now right," answered Ben.

"You hav'n't got Nicholas by your elbow now to prompt you, so keep a sharp look-out, and be sure that you are right this time," said Roger.

"Ay, that I will, sir," answered Ben; "and every league we make good, the more sure I am that I am right."

"I believe that honest Ben is not mistaken, and that we may have a better hope of success than ever before," said Roger to Vaughan, when he joined him on the poop. The ship continued running on all day; but the wind was light, and her progress, consequently, slow. Towards evening she brought up in a deep bay, in which Ben declared the Sally Rose had come to an anchor on her downward passage. The next morning she continued her course, and had run on with a brisk breeze for some hours, when Ben shouted out—"That's the bay, sir, where Dick Sponson and I, when we had Batten with us, found the Sally Rose, after he had escaped from the Indians; it is three days' pull, in a heavy boat with the wind against us, to the northward of this, where we took Batten on board. I should know the place again almost as well as I know Dartmouth harbour. It was about six miles inland of that where our shipmates were killed. If we sail on at the rate we are now going, we shall reach it before noon to-morrow, always provided the wind don't head us."

This information was, at all events, satisfactory, and Ben was so positive that Roger could not but believe him. Ben added, that, to his belief, a short distance farther on there was a river, up which the long-boat might pull for many a league, and that he calculated it would take them into the very heart of the country where Batten, according to his account, had been. As they sailed on, Ben, every now and then, exclaimed—"I mind that point, for we were becalmed off it for the best part of a day."—"Yes, that hill is just where I thought to find one."—"We pulled up yonder stream to get a fresh store of water, and had to pull down it again pretty quickly, with only half our casks full, by reason of a party of Indians."

Thus he ran on, recognising all the main features of the shore. The ship, however, did not reach the bay he had expected, and, accordingly, had to stand off the shore and bring up at night in a more open position than would have been chosen; but, as the weather was calm, that mattered not. Early the next morning, however, the bay he had indicated was reached, and some time before dark the ship came off the very spot where Batten had been taken on board. He knew it by the easy landing the shore afforded, and by two tall trees which leant over one towards the other as if affording mutual support. The spot for which Audley and Captain Layton and his son had been so eagerly looking was at length reached; as, however, it did not afford a secure anchorage, they determined to stand on in hopes of finding the mouth of the river into which they intended to run and bring up. It proved to be not more than a couple of leagues to the northward. Roger having gone ahead in the skiff to sound, piloted the ship to an anchorage just inside the mouth, where she could lie secure from any storms which might blow without, and at the same time too far from the shore to be assailed from thence by any hostile Indians; while her guns would enable her to defend herself against any attack which might be made in canoes, should the natives prove hostile. It being now nearly dark, nothing could be done on shore till the next morning. The night was perfectly calm; the stars glittering overhead were reflected on the mirrorlike surface of the water. The forest extending down to the shores of the deep bay in which the ship lay formed a dark wall round her, from which, ever and anon, came strange sounds; but no human voices were heard to denote that the country was inhabited. Still, a strict watch was wisely kept, for the silence which reigned was no proof that the savages were at a distance.

Meantime, preparations were made for the proposed expedition; the captain would willingly have led it, but Roger persuaded him to remain on board and look after the ship. "Half a dozen men, with you to command them, will be of more avail than a score without you," he observed; "we may thus take twenty with us and leave enough in charge of the boat."

To this the captain at length assented, knowing well that he could not move as fast, nor endure as much fatigue as his younger companions. At dawn the boat shoved off, each man carrying provisions for a week's march, with a further supply in the boat, to be ready should they exhaust their stock before they could return to her. Twenty men, besides the two leaders and Oliver Dane, were to form the expedition. The rest were to remain in the boat. Quitting the river, Ben Tarbox piloted them to the very spot where he and his companion had received Batten on board their boat.

"That is the direction from whence we saw him coming," he said, pointing to the north-west; "and by his account he had been making, as far as he could judge, pretty straight for the shore, as he had the sun, when it rose, directly in his eyes, and he thus knew that he was holding on to the eastward."

"Then we will march in the direction from whence he came," said Roger. "On, lads!" he exclaimed, having given his last orders to the crew to lie off the shore at anchor, and to allow no Indians on board under any pretext till his return. The forest was tolerably open, and the boat's compass enabled them to keep the course they desired. No wigwams were seen, nor cultivated fields, nor did any natives make their appearance. Now and then a deer started from before them: Roger and Vaughan were too careful leaders to allow their men to chase the animals, lest the natives might take the opportunity of setting upon them while thus separated. "Better empty insides than cloven skulls, lads," observed Roger; "ere long we shall have a deer crossing our path near enough to bring it down without the risk of being taken at a disadvantage."

The men, seeing the wisdom of this, marched forward without complaint. Night coming on, they camped in the centre of a tolerably wide space of open ground, near which, at a little distance, ran a stream from whence they could obtain a supply of water, while the bushes which grew near it afforded them fuel. Here also they might hope to get a shot at some animal coming down to drink, which would give them fresh meat and enable them to husband their provisions. Vaughan had often carried a fowling-piece amid the woods and hills of Devonshire, and was the best shot of the party; he accordingly volunteered to watch for a deer, keeping near enough to the camp to obtain assistance if required. It wanted but half an hour to sunset, at which time animals were most likely to come down to drink. Oliver, also carrying a gun, went with him. But few trees or shrubs grew on the banks of the stream, which ran foaming and bubbling over a stony bed, with rocks on either side. As the time was short, they had at once to select a convenient shelter: the best they could find was between a rock and a thick bush, which overhung the stream. Here, leaning against the bank, they could command the opposite shore, which shelved gradually to the water, as it did also some way lower down.

Vaughan was beginning to get weary of waiting, when he saw a couple of deer moving amid the tall grass and brushwood which covered the country for some distance on the opposite side: Oliver saw them also. Recollecting the way Gilbert and Fenton had been entrapped, he thought it possible that the Indians might be attempting to play them a similar trick. The deer trotted forward, and the wind coming from them, they did not discover their enemies, and reaching the bank, began to drink. Vaughan and Oliver raised their pieces, and as the deer lifted up their long necks, they fired together and both fell dead. A shout of triumph raised by Oliver brought several from the camp to the spot, who dashing across the river, the deer were soon cut up, and several pieces of venison were quickly roasting before the fire.

Their success encouraged them to hope that they might obtain ample food, and be able to prosecute their search much further than they had intended. The sound of the shot, however, and their fires, might attract the natives to their neighbourhood; and a very vigilant watch was therefore kept during the night. Somewhat to their surprise, however, it passed away quietly, and the next morning they resumed their march. They were passing the borders of a thick wood, nearly knee-deep in grass, when Roger felt his foot strike against a hard substance which emitted a hollow sound, as it gave way before him. Stooping down, he rose with a human skull in his hand, white and clean. He and Vaughan examined it: the top showed a deep cleft. Others at the same time cried out that they were walking among bones.

"Some Indian battle has taken place here," observed Roger.

"That is no Indian skull," said Vaughan, "but that of a round-headed Englishman. The blow which killed him, it is clear, was inflicted by an Indian tomahawk."

The men, who had been searching about, now brought up from among the grass several other skulls, each one giving the same indubitable evidence of the manner in which the owner had been slain.

"This must be the very place where Batten saw the crew of the Sally Rose slaughtered," observed Vaughan. "It proves that we are on the right track, and should warn us to be cautious in our advance, lest the natives play us the same trick."

Further search produced altogether ten skulls, the number, it was concluded, of the unfortunate party cut off. Their clothing and arms had evidently been carried away, the bodies alone being left as a feast for the vultures and armadillos. The incident was not encouraging; Roger, however, quickly revived the spirits of his party by remarking that all they had to do was to keep a watch on every side, and not to be cajoled by any tricks the Indians might attempt to play them.

Having already provisions for a couple of days, they pushed on bravely, and would have continued even longer than they had intended, had they not unexpectedly arrived on the banks of a broad river, to cross which without a boat would prove a difficult matter and a dangerous one, should Indians attempt to stop their landing on the opposite bank. They agreed therefore that their best course was to proceed up the river, and to borrow canoes, should they find them—as they had no doubt that it was the river at the mouth of which their ship lay, they could without difficulty return to her, provided they could find canoes of sufficient burden to carry them; and if not, they might descend the stream by a raft—no very hazardous undertaking to men such as they were.

It was high time to meet with Indians, and they hoped soon to do so, provided they could establish friendly relations with them, for by their means only could they obtain the information they required. They therefore marched on merrily, and having the river on their right, they had now only one side to guard. As the land was level and not thickly timbered, they could keep close to the water. As Batten had not spoken about a river, they concluded that he had not been carried to the north of the stream along which they were making their way, and that therefore they must be in the neighbourhood of the district in which he had been held captive. As they had cooked the remainder of their venison at their last halting-place, they judged it wise not to light a fire lest they might attract Indians to their camp at night, who might at all events disturb their rest. Thus Roger and Vaughan thought they might probably have passed Indian villages without being discovered. They came to two or three small streams, through which they waded, though the water was above their waists, while Ben Tarbox carried Oliver on his shoulders.

At length, however, another stream was reached too broad and deep to be crossed in this fashion; a ford might exist, they thought, further up, and they accordingly were proceeding along the bank when Roger's eye fell upon a canoe hauled up on the shore some way ahead. This would afford them the means of crossing, they hoped; but on reaching her it was found that she was formed of birch bark, that her side was battered in, and that she was indeed little better than a sieve. She was of no avail, therefore, for their purpose.

The existence of a canoe in that place went to show that the natives were not far off; still Roger and Vaughan determined to cross, as they were unwilling to get farther from the main stream. They set to work, therefore, to cut down a number of small trees to form a raft. While they were thus engaged, Vaughan with his usual companion, Oliver Dane, proceeded a little higher up along the bank in search of game, Roger cautioning them not to go far. In a short time Oliver came back, saying that he had caught sight of an Indian in a canoe, spearing fish amid some rapids which ran across the stream; but as the fisher had not seen him, they might easily go back without being discovered.

"If we can avoid alarming him, and get him to come to us, which he may do, by seeing only two persons, it may prove a favourable opportunity for obtaining information," observed Vaughan; "we must proceed cautiously, however, and I will keep out of sight while you make signs to the fisher."

They accordingly crept along behind some thick bushes which effectually concealed them from the person in the canoe. At length they reached the spot, whence Vaughan could see the fisher. "Why," he whispered to Oliver, "that is a young girl; but though hot dress is that of an Indian, she appears to me, at this distance fairer than even the Princess Pocahontas—a graceful young damsel, too. See, she has struck another fish, and is hauling it in. Do you, Oliver, go and show yourself on the bank; sing as you have been wont to do on board, and beckon to her; it will calm any alarm she might be inclined to feel, and she will come more readily than were she to see me."

Oliver did as he was bid. The girl just then caught sight of him, and as she did so, she laid down her lance and seizing a paddle, with a couple of strokes sent her canoe out of the rapids into the smoother water below them; then, lifting a bow with an arrow, drew it to the head. Just then Oliver, having found his voice, began to sing the first air which came into his head. The maiden stood balancing herself in her frail bark, motionless as a statue, listening with eager ears to the notes which reached her, then, slowly withdrawing her arrow, let it fall with her bow into the canoe. Oliver sang on, observing the effect of his music, and beckoned as he had been directed. She quickly understood him and sinking into her seat, with rapid strokes she urged the canoe towards the bank, her countenance turned with an eager and wondering gaze at his face. She came on till the bow of the canoe almost touched the shore; then, standing up, she beckoned him to come down to her from the top of the bank, when with another stroke of her paddle she brought the canoe close to him.

"Who are you? whence do you come?" she asked eagerly. Oliver knew enough of the Indian language to understand her, though scarcely enough to reply. He pointed therefore down the river, intimating that he came thus far in a big ship, though he said nothing of his companions. She appeared to comprehend him, looking up all the time eagerly as before in his face; then she put out her hand close to his as if comparing the colour; hers indeed was the lightest of the two. Next she pointed to her face, which though sunburnt, was not so dark as his. Her countenance showed the thoughts which were passing rapidly through her mind. At last she inquired his object in coming thither. He told her that it was to seek for some friends, white people, who were supposed to be in that part of the country. She stood with her finger on her brow for a minute or more, as if meditating what to do; then, having made up her mind, she took his hand and signed to him to step into the canoe and sit down. Oliver was a brave lad, and without hesitation he complied. No sooner was he on board than with one stroke of her paddle she sent the canoe away from the bank, directing its head up the stream towards the rapids down which she had descended. As she got near them she handed him another paddle, and intimated to him that he was to use it in ascending the rapids. He had frequently paddled about in James River in Indian canoes, and was therefore able to obey her. On seeing this, she uttered an expression of approbation. Vaughan, who had watched these proceedings with much interest, saw his young companion, and the Indian girl paddle on till they had reached smooth water above the rapids, when they darted away at a rate which quickly took them out of sight.

"He is a brave fellow to go thus unhesitatingly, and I trust that no harm will befall him; he probably was afraid of frightening the young damsel or he would have called to me, to ask my advice." Such was the tenour of his thoughts, as he made his way back to where he had left the rest of the party. Roger was highly pleased when he heard of Oliver's courage in going thus alone with the Indian girl, and agreed with Vaughan as to the motive which induced him to accompany her.

"One thing is certain," he observed, "that it will be useless for us to continue making the raft, as we must either wait Oliver's return here, or follow him up along the stream to the place to which the girl has conveyed him."

Vaughan agreeing that this was the best thing to do, the men were ordered to get into marching order. After passing the spot near the rapids where the Indian girl had taken Oliver into her canoe, the ground became very rough, a high and rugged ridge making their progress, laden as they were, exceedingly difficult. Still, they felt bound to follow Oliver, for the maiden's friends might not be disposed to treat the lad as kindly as she might, supposing him to be alone and unprotected— whereas the appearance of an armed band such as theirs was might overawe them, and show them that it was their interest to be on friendly terms with their visitors. Vaughan and Roger leading the way, the men scrambled over the rocks after them, keeping as close as they could above the river, that, should the canoe return with Oliver, they might not fail to see her.

Having at length surmounted the ridge, they found themselves looking down into a broad and pleasant valley, watered by another small rivulet, by the side of which appeared an Indian village and a considerable number of people moving about, while a group, in the midst of which they distinguished Oliver and the young girl, was collected in front of the largest wigwam. The principal figure was an old Indian, who by his dress, and the ornaments on his head, they knew must be a chief. The girl was apparently endeavouring to explain to the old chief how she had found the young paleface.

"They see us," cried Roger, as he and Vaughan with their men appeared on the top of the ridge; "keep your weapons lowered, lads, we must do nothing to alarm them. Stay here, and I will go down and make friends with the old chief—that fair damsel will, I doubt not, be on our side— they will be less likely to be alarmed by seeing one person approach alone."

As he was speaking, many of the Indians ran into their wigwams, and brought forth their bows and arrows, and other weapons. Those about the chief, however, remained perfectly quiet, merely turning their eyes in the direction of the strangers. Roger therefore advanced without any anxiety towards the chief, who stood waiting his arrival. Going up to the old man he took him by the hand, and explained in the choicest language he could command the object of his, and his companions' visit to that part of the country. The chief replied that he had gathered as much from what the girl had told him, and that he had heard some days before of the appearance of the white-faces on their shore. Roger expressed his surprise at this, when the Indian remarked that they had been seen on landing, and that their progress had been watched day after day, but as they had done no harm they had been allowed to proceed. "Our people are not fools," observed the old chief, "and we knew well that the further you proceeded into the country the more easily we could destroy you if we deemed it necessary."

Roger knew by this that the precautions he had taken had not been useless. His object being to win over the chief, he did not boast of his power to resist the attack; the well-armed party on the top of the hill would produce more effect, he knew, than anything he could say. He now turned to Oliver and his companion. On looking at the maiden, he had no doubt, from the form of her features and her fair complexion, that she was of English parentage, though not a word of English had she uttered. His curiosity to know how she was thus living among the Indians was very great; on this point, however, she could give him no information. She had lived always with them, and she believed that the old chief was her grandfather; from the latter, therefore, only could he hope to obtain an answer to his questions. The old chief was, however, evidently not disposed to reply to him; the maiden was one of their tribe, and such she must always be, he answered at length; so Roger saw that it would be wise not to press the matter just then. He accordingly, feeling satisfied with what the chief had said, asked if he knew aught of a white man who had long been in that region, or of two youths who had lately been brought thither.

"Wise men do not reply till they have time to consider the object of the questions put to them," answered the chief; "if you come as friends, as friends we will receive you, and give you the best our country affords. You may invite your companions down into the valley, they need fear no danger."

"It is not our habit to fear danger," answered Roger, "but we have confidence in your friendship; when danger is threatened, we know how to defend ourselves." Having made this remark, which had its due effect, he hastened back to Vaughan, and after a short consultation, they agreed to accept the chiefs invitation, but to keep a strict watch, in case of treachery.



CHAPTER TEN.

Oliver and the young girl were, in the mean time, eagerly endeavouring to understand each other. They had left the group and were seated together on the bank of the stream. Some new ideas had evidently come into her mind; it seemed to flash upon her that she was of the same race as the young paleface by her side. She had never known a father, she said, or mother, and the squaw who had more especially tended on her in her childhood had as tawny a skin as the rest of her tribe. Now and then she talked with Oliver, but oftener sat with her finger on her brow, lost in thought. After some time she began to understand his questions better than at first. She replied that she would try to find out what he wanted to know and tell him. Oliver felt himself every instant becoming more and more interested; he could not help thinking, as he watched her varying countenance, that she must be of his own race. Perhaps her name would assist him to discover the truth. He asked, looking up in her face, what she was called. "Manita," she answered, "does it sound pleasant in your ears?"

"Very pleasant indeed," he replied, repeating it, "I shall remember it as long as I live."

The old chief received the adventurers in a friendly manner, and to prove his good intentions, said that he would direct his people to build wigwams for them on any spot they might choose. Roger replied that as he and his people were fond of water, they should prefer encamping on the bank of the river, where the rivulet ran into it; his true motive being that they should thus have only two sides to defend should they by any chance be attacked; while they might also, by building rafts, descend the stream into the main river and thus regain their ship.

The whole of the population at once set to work to supply the wants of the white strangers, the men even being condescending enough to assist, though the women were chiefly employed in bringing the materials for the huts and putting them up. The Englishmen, however, as soon as they saw their mode of proceeding, greatly lightened their labours. The rest of the men went out hunting, and before evening returned with a plentiful supply of game. In a wonderfully short time a village had sprung up, affording ample accommodation in fine summer weather.

After the Indians had left them, the young girl came fearlessly into their midst, bringing the fish she had caught as her present to Oliver and the two officers, for she at once distinguished them from the rest of the men. She had then a further talk with Oliver; she inquired whether he would be willing to accompany her in her canoe up the stream, and as they would have a long way to go, he must assist in paddling, but no one else must accompany them, nor must the Indians or his own friends know where they had gone. There might be some danger, she confessed, though it was not such as to make her hesitate if she could serve her new friends.

Oliver, who liked the notion of the danger, replied that he would willingly go.

She advised him to sleep soundly and to be awake two hours before dawn, when he would find her with the canoe at the mouth of the stream, beneath a high bank, from which he could easily step on board without being seen. "I will tell you more when we are away," she added, "but if any one is awake and asks where you are going, you can let them understand that you are about to fish in the stream, and my people will not be surprised, as it is my chief occupation. I have no pleasure in working with the squaws, who have little love for me, because I am the favourite of my grandfather, who allows me to do what I like."

Such, in substance, was what the young girl said to Oliver. He promised faithfully to obey her injunctions, and to be ready to accompany her at the time she had fixed on. He had some difficulty in going to sleep for thinking of the expedition he was to make on the morrow, but he at length succeeded in dropping off. After sleeping for some time he opened his eyes, and feeling broad awake, crept out of the hut, thinking that it was time to set out; but as he could see the sentries at their posts—for Roger judged it wise to place men on the watch lest the Indians might play them false—he waited till the one next him had moved to the end of his beat, and then keeping under the shade of the huts, stole down towards the river's bank. Moving on cautiously, he soon reached the spot at which the girl had told him to wait for her. Sitting down, he gazed at the stream which rippled by in front of him, ere it joined the broad river on his right. The murmuring of the water as it sounded in his ears soon had the not unusual effect of sending him off again to sleep. He awoke with a start on hearing a gentle voice calling to him. Rubbing his eyes as he looked round, he saw the shadowy form of the maiden standing up in her canoe, just below his feet. Forgetting its frail structure, he was about to leap into it, when she, observing his intention, exclaimed in a louder voice than she would otherwise have used—

"Stay, stay, or you will break through the canoe, and put a stop to our expedition."

Oliver, taking her hand, which she extended to him, stepped carefully into the canoe, and seated himself at her bidding. As he did so, she turned the canoe away from the bank, and the next instant they were in the broader river.

"We will first steer down the stream," she whispered, "and then cross to the opposite side, lest any one should have seen us. Take the paddle you will find at your feet."

Oliver looked towards the shore, but could see no one, and felt therefore satisfied that they were not watched.

"It is well," observed Manita; "we may therefore the sooner proceed up the stream."

In another minute they were paddling away, Manita dexterously steering the canoe. Having got so far from the village that their voices could not be heard, Oliver inquired the object of the expedition.

"You wish to gain news of a white man who has been long in this country?" answered Manita; "when I heard what you said, I recollected that two moons ago I had gone on an expedition up this river with two other girls somewhat older than myself. They took me with them to steer while they paddled. Their object was to run away from those they did not love, and to hide in the forest till they could return with safety. The river, though not very wide, continues on far, far away; and we paddled on all day; and not till night did we come to the end of our voyage. They secured the canoe beneath an overhanging tree, whose boughs afforded us shelter while we slept. At daylight, leaping out of the canoe, with their basket of provisions, and telling me to take it back, but not to say where they had gone, they ran off into the forest. This I had no fancy for doing—not that I should have been punished—but I liked not to be deceived, and wished to know what they were about. I accordingly, instead of doing as they had bid me, followed their trail; though I kept at such a distance that they could not hear or see me should they look back. On they went, till I began to grow weary and hungry; they stopped to eat, but I had forgotten to bring provisions with me, not supposing that they would go so far. I lay concealed close to them, till I heard them get up and go on again; then I knew that they must be intending to go much further. Fortunately they had left some fruit and a piece of corn-cake, which had slipped out of one of their baskets. I ate it as I went along, afraid of getting far behind them.

"Leaving the forest, they went over hills and down valleys, and up other hills; and I had great difficulty in concealing myself—indeed, had they not hurried on without looking back, they must have discovered me. They now entered another forest; they were getting farther and farther from me, and I was becoming more and more weary. I was still trying to overtake them, when I felt a sharp pain in my foot—a thorn had pierced it, and sinking to the ground, I knew not what happened. How long I had thus lain I could not tell, when opening my eyes I saw a tall man, dressed in skins, but his face was fairer than that of any Indian I had ever beheld; his hair light and long; and on his head he wore a covering of straw. He cast a kind look at me, but I saw that he was as much astonished as I was at seeing him. Stooping down, he spoke some words which I did not understand; he then addressed me in Indian, and asked me who I was, and whence I had come. I told him at once that I was the grand-daughter of Oncagua, and that I was following some girls of the tribe who had run away, begging him to tell me if he knew where they were gone. He replied that they were safe with those by whom they would be better treated than they were by their own people. My foot paining me while he was speaking, I groaned, and he stooped down and pulled out the thorn, when he bound up the wound with some leaves, fastening them on with the fibres of a tree; then, seeing that I could not walk, he took me up in his arms and carried me to a dwelling larger than any I had ever before seen. It was on the borders of the forest, surrounded by a garden and corn-field; close to it, at a little distance was a large Indian village.

"He asked me if I would be content to remain there till the wound in my foot was healed. I felt sure that he would treat me kindly, though I wanted to go back to Oncagua, who would be mourning for me.

"To this the white man did not object, though he said that he should have wished me to remain with him. He watched over me with the greatest care, and in three days my foot was well; and though I did not learn that which I wanted to know—what had become of my companions—I wished to go back to my grandfather. I told the strange white man this, and he would not stop me, he said, though he was loth to part with me. I, too, was grieved to part with him, for he had been very kind, and told me wonderful things about the great God who rules the world, and One who was punished instead of man, that man's sins might be forgiven, and that he might be made friends with God, and go to live with him in the sky. And he told me much more, but I could not understand it.

"When he found how much I wished to go back he said that he would go with me as far as the river, where I had left my canoe; that he should like to see me safely to my grandfather, but that he was bound by an oath to the chief with whom he lived not to go beyond the river, and that he could not break that oath, though it cost him so much. He had not allowed any of the people in the village to see me all this time, as he was afraid that they might prevent my going away. He set off with me, therefore, very early in the morning, and as I knew the way I had come from the place where he found me, I was able to lead him directly to the canoe. He was very sad at parting from me, and sighed much, and made me promise that I would come back to him again if I could. I found the canoe safe, as no one had passed that way. He asked me if I was not afraid of remaining by myself, but with a laugh I told him no; that I had often been out in the forest alone; that I would sleep in the canoe that night, and be away by dawn in the morning. Still he seemed very sorry to let me go, as he wanted to tell me more of the wonderful things about which he had spoken, and the happy country of spirits to which good men go. He said, therefore, that he would not leave me till he had seen me begin my voyage. We lighted a fire, therefore, and cooked some birds which we had shot as we came along, and then when it was time to go to sleep, while I lay down in my canoe, he climbed up into a tree above me, and lay down among the thick branches, so that he could watch me.

"It was just daylight when I heard his voice telling me that it would be time for me to begin my voyage, after I had had some more food. He then kneeling down, prayed to his God to take care of me, and blessed me; and then kissing my brow, helped to force the canoe out into the stream. As I turned my head several times I saw him still standing on the bank watching me, till I could see him no longer. As the current was with me, I got back early in the day, before my grandfather and the other men who had gone out hunting had come back. None of the squaws dared to ask where I had been, nor whether any other girls had accompanied me; so I went into my grandfather's hut, and waited till he had come back.

"When he appeared, he was too glad to see me to be angry; indeed, he never has been angry with me since I can remember, but has looked upon me as above every one else in the tribe, so that I can come and go as I like. I would not say where I had been all that day, but the next I told him of my long voyage up the river, how I had hurt my foot in the woods, and had been helped by the strange white man. On hearing this, he replied that the white man must be a wicked magician; that it was he probably who had enticed the other girls away; and that, perhaps, if I went back, he would kill and eat me. I knew that this was not true, or why had he not done so at first, had he wished it?

"Since then, I have been longing to go back to see the white man; but I found that a watch was kept on me. When I heard you, however, inquiring for a white man, I at once thought that the stranger I had seen must be the one you were in search of, and I resolved to help you to find him, being assured that he is no magician."

"I have great hopes that he is the very man we are in search of," exclaimed Oliver, after Manita had finished her narrative, which took much longer time to give than it has to describe, seeing that she had to repeat it in a variety of ways before she was satisfied that her listener understood what she said. She had brought a good supply of provisions, and as Oliver hinted that he was getting very hungry, somewhere about noon she guided the canoe towards the bank, where they rested for awhile, and ate their food. They then paddled on again with renewed vigour. Manita complimented Oliver on the way in which he handled his paddle, and remarked that they were getting on much faster than when she had gone up before. It was thus some time before evening when she announced that they had arrived at the spot where she had before landed. Having run the canoe close to the bank under a tree, they secured it, and stepped on shore.

"We will take some provisions with us this time," she observed, "for though I may kill some birds with my arrows, it will delay us to do so."

They set off at once, and made good progress before sunset, when, at Oliver's suggestion, they both climbed up into a tree, in which he formed a sort of platform, where she could sleep securely; he afterwards making another for himself. They set off again at dawn, and Oliver, helping Manita over the rough hills, to which he, a Devonshire lad, was well accustomed, they made good progress. At last the clearing Manita had described was reached, and they saw before them the white man standing in front of his dwelling.

"There he is!" exclaimed Manita. "Oh, I am so glad to see him!" and she bounded on ahead of Oliver. The recluse, for such he seemed, welcomed Manita affectionately, but his gaze was turned towards Oliver. "Who are you, young sir?" he exclaimed, looking from one to the other of his visitors.

"Oliver Dane, sir, from near Dartmouth, in Devonshire," he answered.

The recluse appeared greatly agitated. "Speak, speak: with whom came you? when did you reach this distant land?" he asked.

"I arrived here five days since, sir," replied Oliver, "in the Rainbow, commanded by Captain Layton, with Master Roger Layton, Master Vaughan Audley, and a company of twenty men."

"Vaughan Audley!" exclaimed the recluse; "is he with you?"

"He is with the rest of the party, thirty miles or more away down the river," answered Oliver.

"And Mistress Audley, and her daughter Lettice—can you give me tidings of them?" continued the recluse, before Oliver had finished his reply.

"I left; Mistress Audley and Lettice at James Town a week since," answered Oliver; "but, alack! Gilbert and young Fenton were carried off by the Indians, and we have come up in search of them, as we have of Captain Audley; and, if I mistake not, sir, you are that very gentleman."

"I am indeed so; I believed that I was long ago supposed to be dead," answered Captain Audley; "or that search would have been made for me."

Oliver then told him all he knew respecting the report brought home by Batten. "But how comes it that my son did not accompany Manita?" inquired Captain Audley.

"She will tell you why she would only bring me," answered Oliver. Manita's reply seemed to satisfy him; he then made many eager inquiries about Gilbert, as to whom and by whom he had been carried off. Oliver gave him all the information in his power. So interested had he been, that he had forgotten to invite the young travellers into his house; he now, however, did so, and placed before them an ample meal. Manita seemed somewhat puzzled how to behave, but looking at Oliver she imitated him very well. Their host frequently gazed at the young people, as he plied Oliver further with questions.

"When will you come with us, sir?" asked Oliver, after waiting for some time; "Manita is, I know, in a hurry to get back, and all will be ready to welcome you when you arrive."

"Alas! I cannot go thus far unless one who holds my pledge is ready to set me free," answered Captain Audley. "He may be willing to do so, or fear of the white man's power may induce him to release me."

"I suppose, sir, you would not object to be carried off by force, if the Indians will not by fair means let you go free?" said Oliver.

"As to that I shall make no answer, lad," replied Captain Audley; "I wish by fair means alone to gain my liberty. I have, though, another motive for remaining: to search, with the aid of my Indian friends, for my boy Gilbert and his companions, who have been brought, you say, by their captors to this part of the country. I will therefore bid you return and invite the party to come up here. Their presence will, I hope, have its effect."

The recluse, or Captain Audley, for such it appeared that he was, continued looking at his young guests; suddenly turning to Oliver, he asked whether he had heard that he had a sister born some short time before the settlement was destroyed.

"Yes," answered Oliver, "my mother had a little daughter named Virginia, the first child born in the settlement, who was, my grandfather supposed, murdered with her and my father on that cruel day."

"It may have been so," remarked Captain Audley, "but she may have escaped; and the thought occurred to me when I first saw this little damsel; for a child of white parents she undoubtedly is, though brought up with Indian ways and manners; and when I saw you and her together and heard your name, judging by your age, and on examining your countenances, which strongly resemble each other, I at once became impressed with the idea, that she was no other than Virginia Dane, and therefore your sister. There was no other child in the settlement so young as she must have been when it was attacked, and none so likely to have had its life spared."

Oliver looked upon Manita with still greater interest than before, and giving her a kiss, told her what the white man had said, and asked her whether she would wish to be his sister.

"Yes, yes," she answered, with a look of pleasure; "and you will come and live at our village, and go out fishing and hunting with me, and become some day chief of our tribe."

Oliver tried to explain that it was much more fitting that she should come and live among the English. At first she did not understand this, and doubted whether her grandfather would allow her to go. Oliver had then to explain that the old chief was not her grandfather; possibly, that he or his followers had murdered their parents, though for some reason he had saved her life. This seemed to make her waver; she promised Oliver that she would consider the matter.

"You are too weary to return at once, my young guests," observed Captain Audley. "While you rest, I will go to the village that you see yonder and seek out the chief Wamsutah. I may be able to win him over to assist in our object. I trust by means of the influence I possess over his mind, to induce him to aid in the recovery of my son Gilbert and his companion. He possesses more power than any chief of the neighbouring tribes, Powhattan excepted; and should he learn where they are to be found, he will not fail to obtain their release."

Saying this, Captain Audley took his departure, leaving Oliver and Manita in his dwelling. A considerable time passed, however, before he returned. Manita, overcome with fatigue, had fallen asleep in a corner of the room, wrapped up in her cloak. Oliver was too anxious to close his eyes. As he watched the features of the young girl, he felt more and more convinced that the surmise of Captain Audley was correct, and he thought of the happiness it would be to restore her to civilised life, and of the blessing she might prove to their aged grandfather, whom she might tend with a watchful care far better than he was able to bestow. At last he too dropped off asleep. He was awakened by the return of their host.

"Have you succeeded, sir?" he asked, eagerly.

"I have news of the two lads, who are many hours' journey from this, in the hands of a tribe, alas! at enmity with Wamsutah and his people. I cannot hope, consequently, to communicate with them without much difficulty, and must wait an opportunity, which I pray God to afford me. I would have you, therefore, after resting here tonight, hasten back to your people; tell my son Vaughan how I long to embrace him, but that stern necessity compels me to remain here awhile, till the chief permits me to depart with honour, and I can bring back the two missing ones. I do not advise Vaughan and Master Layton to come up here, lest they should create suspicion in the minds of the Indians. Let them be on their guard against treachery, which this people look upon more as a virtue than a crime; and if they can obtain canoes from the chief Oncagua, or can contrive to build them, let them by all means return down the river, which they will find navigable to the mouth. They would thus avoid many dangers through which they before unconsciously passed, and regain the ship far more speedily than by land."

Oliver promised to deliver the messages he had received from Captain Audley, who the next morning told him that he had provided two Indian lads, his pupils, in whom he could implicitly trust to escort him and Manita to the canoe. Setting off, they safely reached it, and anxious to arrive at the village before night, at once paddled briskly down the stream. It was dark, however, before they neared their destination, and Manita proposed that they should land at the English village. As they approached they were hailed by Ben Tarbox from the bank, to whom Oliver replied.

"Thankful to hear your voice, Master Dane," said Ben, as he helped them out of the canoe, which he drew up on the bank. "We thought you were lost, and the old chief has been in a great taking about his granddaughter, accusing us of spiriting her away, and well-nigh creating a breach of the peace."

"We have not been on a fool's errand, Ben," answered Oliver. "I want to speak to our commander without delay, wherever he is."

"He and Master Audley are on foot, for we don't know at what moment the natives may take it into their fickle heads to attack us," answered Ben. "Here they come."

Oliver, followed by Manita, hastened to meet Vaughan and Roger, and as fast he could pour out his words, he told them of his adventure. Vaughan, prompted by filial affection, was eager to set off to meet his father, but Oliver reminded him of the advice he had brought that the party should remain at their present post, and Roger also giving his opinion to the same effect, he agreed to wait further tidings. They might, however, be compelled to move for want of provisions, though their present stock would enable them to remain some days longer, but a small portion having been exhausted. They had hopes, too, that when Oncagua should discover that Manita was safe, his confidence would be restored, and that he would be as ready as at first to supply them with food. Both Vaughan and Roger agreed that the likeness between Manita and Oliver was very great, and they had little doubt that she was really Captain White's grandchild. Oliver declared that he had no doubt about the matter, and already felt towards her as a brother for a sister. She by this time fully comprehended that she was of the white man's race, and when Vaughan asked her if she would go back to Oncagua, she burst into tears.

No, she replied; she would remain with her new brother. The chief was generally kind, but he might keep her prisoner or send her off further away, when she could not return to her brother.

There might be truth in what the maiden said; and though they hoped, by her means, to restore a good understanding between themselves and Oncagua, they would not deliver her up into his power. It was agreed, therefore, that she should remain in the village during the night.

Oliver begged that he might go the next morning to the chief, and tell him how matters had fallen out.

"A brave thought," exclaimed Vaughan. "You shall go, and when the chief sees you he will be convinced that you speak the truth."

Next morning Oliver set out, with his sword by his side, which, young as he was, he knew how to use; but without other arms. The Indians gazed at him as he walked fearlessly on till he reached the wigwam of the chief, who had just come forth. In the best language he could command he delivered his message, and then told him that he was the brother of her whom he had so long nourished and protected, and that he came to thank him for the kindness he had shown her; that she was now with her own people, who heartily desired to be the friends of Oncagua and his tribe.

The chief gazed at the bold youth with astonishment. "Does she remain willingly with them, or do they keep her as a prisoner?" he asked.

"It is of her own free will that she remains," answered Oliver.

The chief sighed; "It is true that her parents were palefaces," he said, "but the heart of Oncagua yearns towards her, and he has ever regarded her as his child."

"But our grandfather has no other descendants than us two, and his heart will be made glad when he hears that the daughter of his only child is alive," replied Oliver; "it may be that Oncagua remembers the chief of the palefaces when they first settled at Roanoke, Massey White."

"He was my friend, my brother," answered the old chief; "it was for his sake, in return for the kindness he did me, that I saved his grandchild, and would have saved her mother had I possessed the means of carrying her off. Though I shall grieve to lose the maiden, yet willingly will I send her to him to cheer his declining years. Bring her to me; she need not fear that I will detain her; but I will gaze at her once again before you take her away with you to your distant home. For her sake you and your companions may rest assured that Oncagua will remain, as he has ever been, a friend to the palefaces."

Highly satisfied with the result of his embassy, Oliver hastened back to the camp. After due consultation Vaughan and Roger agreed to allow Virginia, if she was so minded, to accompany Oliver to the chief; should they not do so, it might show want of confidence, and Oliver declared that he would die fighting for her sooner than allow her to be carried off. She at first hesitated, but when Oliver told her what the chief had said, she consented to accompany him. Holding each other fast by the hand they set out, no one even addressing them till they reached the chief's wigwam. Oncagua stood at the entrance waiting for them; he gazed with a fond look at the young girl for some minutes without speaking.

"Do you leave me willingly?" he asked at length, in a tone of grief. She burst into tears. "Had I not found my white brother, I would have remained with you, and tended you in sickness and old age," she said, "but now I desire to go where he goes, and to dwell with those of my own colour."

"Go, my child, go, the Great Spirit will have it so—and when you are far away, Oncagua will dream that you are happy with those of your own kindred and race." As he spoke, he entered his wigwam; quickly returning with a small package carefully done up in opossum skin. "Take this with you," he said, "it contains the clothes you wore and the chain you bore round your neck as an infant; it will prove to your grandfather that you are indeed his daughter's child." Taking the maiden in his arms, he pressed her to his heart, and then placing her hand in that of Oliver, told him to hasten back to his friends, as if he doubted his own resolution to give her up. The rest of the people, who had collected from all sides, gazed on the paleface maiden and her brother, with glances of admiration and awe, regarding them as beings of a superior nature to themselves.

Vaughan and Roger were on the watch to welcome them back; they both felt that they could not sufficiently thank the young maiden for the service she had done them, and they wished to express to Oliver their sense of his courage and boldness.

"I have done nothing that I should be thanked," said Virginia, for by her rightful name they now called her; "I heard that you were in search of a white man, and knowing where one was to be found, I took my brother to him."

The object of their expedition, however, was not yet accomplished; they knew that Captain Audley was alive, but he and their two friends were still a long way off, and it might be a hard matter to reach them. Two days passed by, and they were becoming impatient, for as their stock of provisions was now growing short, they must depend on the Indians for their supply, and should they refuse it, they would be entirely in their power. Virginia and Oliver offered to make another expedition up the river to communicate with Captain Audley, but Vaughan considered himself bound to abide by his father's commands. Roger proposed that they should instead borrow the maiden's canoe, which still lay on the bank, and send down to the ship. Oliver at once offered to go, and suggested that Ben Tarbox, who knew well how to handle a canoe, should be asked to accompany him.

"Of course I will," answered Ben, "if it was six times as far. We'll find our way down easily enough, and if the navigation is clear, we'll come back in the long-boat, and bring a good store of provision and arms, and a couple of swivels in the bows in case we fall in with any Indians likely to give us a taste of their arrows."

It was of course necessary to consult Virginia about taking her canoe. On hearing that Oliver was going, she insisted on going also; she understood better than any one else how to manage the canoe, and she was eager to see the big ship and the good captain who had known her father. So determined was she that Vaughan and Roger had to yield, believing that with so careful a man as Tarbox she would not be exposed to more danger than by remaining with them. As soon as the arrangement was made, she hastened to the canoe, which she examined thoroughly, covering the seams afresh with a gummy substance, a lump of which she produced from the bow. She also found a third paddle, which, she observed, would be for the sailor's use. As the day was far spent, it was necessary to wait till the next morning. Virginia was up before daybreak, and summoning Oliver and Ben, announced that it was time to start, that they might not be seen by the Indians, who might perchance wish to stop them. Vaughan and Roger with some of the men, came down to see them off. Ben, who sat in the bow, had his musket by his side; Oliver paddled next to him, and Virginia, who seemed to consider herself as captain of the craft, sat in the stern and steered. Their friends uttering a prayer for their safety, they pushed off from the bank, and commenced their voyage.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The young maiden steered the canoe in a way which excited Ben's warmest admiration. The roar of the rapids was soon heard ahead; not a moment did she hesitate; onward sped the canoe, straight as an arrow. Moving her paddle now on one side, now on the other, she guided it down the steep descent, the water bubbling and foaming, the tops of the dark rocks appearing on either side, against which had the frail fabric struck it must have been dashed to pieces. Even Ben held in his breath till they were once more in smooth water.

"Paddle on! paddle on!" she cried; and Oliver repeated the order to Ben, who understood not her language. A wall of trees rose on either bank, above which the blue sky appeared, tinged with the light of morning, though the stream down which the canoe sped her way still lay in deepest gloom. Every rock and sand-bank was well known to Virginia, who steered steadily onward. Gradually the stream widened, and the current ran with less force. Hitherto, scarcely a word had been uttered, except when the young pilot directed her crew to cease paddling or to paddle on.

"How shall we be able to get up in the longboat?" asked Oliver, who thought that he might at length venture to speak; "nearly as much water is required as a man could wade through."

Virginia understood his explanation. "There is another passage to the left, where the water is deep, though the current is rapid, and strong men can drag up such a canoe as you describe," she answered.

"Our men will not be prevented from coming up on that account, then," he remarked, satisfied that the undertaking might be accomplished.

Sooner than he expected the canoe entered the broad river, at the mouth of which he hoped to find the ship at anchor. The sun had now risen, his bright rays glancing across the placid water, which shone like a sheet of burnished gold. Virginia gazed at it with astonishment. "I can be your pilot no longer," she said, "for I have been here twice only before—the first time the water was dark and troubled, and I thought that I had reached the mighty lake across which the canoes of the palefaces, as I had heard, sail from their own lands. I came again, when seeing the opposite bank, I knew that I was in another river, but feared to venture far lest I should be unable to return against the current."

"Continue to steer, I pray you," said Oliver, "Ben will act as pilot to tell you which way to go, for neither of us can manage the canoe as you do; all we have to do is to keep near to the shore on our right, and we cannot miss our way."

Virginia seemed well pleased at the confidence placed in her, and Oliver and Ben paddled on right merrily. Though the river was so broad, there still might be shoals and rocks or sunken trees; and Virginia kept her gaze ahead, to be ready to avoid them or any other dangers. The current having less strength than in the smaller stream, the canoe did not make as rapid way as at first; still, as they looked at the trees on the right, they saw that they were going at a speed with which no ordinary boat could compete.

As midday drew on, Oliver proposed landing to take their meal, but to this Virginia objected, as there might be inhabitants on the shore, who might come suddenly upon them before they had time to embark. They therefore took such food as they required, allowing the canoe meantime to float down. Virginia had not failed to look out for any canoe which might dart out upon them, for, taught by experience, she knew that they were more likely to contain foes than friends. None, however, appeared.

The sun was already sinking astern when Ben announced that he recognised the mouth of the river, and as they rounded a point, he shouted, "Hurrah! there's the ship all right—we shall soon be aboard and astonish them not a little."

They were hailed as they approached by the sentry on the forecastle, who seeing the maiden in her Indian dress, knew not what to expect. Ben's reply assured him who they were, and Captain Layton and the rest of the crew quickly gathered at the side to help Virginia upon deck. She hesitated for a moment; the huge ship astonished her, surpassing all her imaginings. On hearing from Oliver who she was, the captain endeavoured by every sign he could make to show his satisfaction. "Tell her," he said to Oliver, "that I knew her father, a brave Christian man, and she shall be to me as a daughter, so that she shall never regret the Indian friends she has left."

He kissed her brow as he spoke, and she seemed at once to understand him. He then led her down into the cabin, round which she looked with a gaze of astonishment at the numberless articles, so strange to her eyes. "Tell her we cannot yet turn her into an English girl, for Cicely has left none of her clothes on board, and they would not fit her slim figure if she had," said Captain Layton, "but in the mean time she must learn English, and when we get back to James Town we will rig her out properly, and she will soon be able to talk her native tongue—though I don't suppose she ever spoke much of it in early life."

The captain had, however, but little time just then to attend to Virginia, as Oliver had further to explain the condition of the party, and to beg that the long-boat might be sent up to their assistance. As she, however, had been waiting all this time for the return of the party, it was necessary to send for her, and she could not arrive till nightfall. Oliver and Ben volunteered to go for her at once; though they had been paddling all day, a few hours more work would do them no harm. Virginia wanted to accompany them when she heard they were going, but this the captain would not allow. Though, she seemed very unhappy at parting from her brother, Oliver soothed her by assuring her that he would soon be back; and slipping into the canoe, he and Ben set off.