slipped into the already crowded space, though one of Powhatan's squaws
tried to stay her. She made her way without further opposition between
Chickahominies and Massawomekes, up to the dais where her father sat,
and crouched down on a mat spread on raised hurdles at his feet, where
she could observe all that went on.

One of the Chickahominy chiefs, whose face she remembered to have seen
at the great autumn festivals, was the first to speak:

"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,