off his own belt. Smith bound the astonished Indian to his left arm so
that he could use him as a living buckler. Thus protected, he fired his
pistol and the ball, entering the breast of an older chief, killed him
instantly. For a moment the strange fate which had overtaken their
leader checked the onslaught, while his companions stooped down, one
behind the other, to examine the wound made by the demon weapon. This
respite gave Smith time to whip out his sword, and whirling it about
him, he kept his enemies at a distance. He might have succeeded in
defending himself thus for some time longer, for the savages had ceased
to shoot, not certain whether their arrows would not be ineffectual upon
an invulnerable body, but all at once he became aware of a new danger.
The marshy ground on which he stood had softened with his weight and
that of his living shield and he now felt himself sinking deeper and
deeper into the morass until he was submerged up to his waist. Still the
Indians, doubtless fearing he had some other strange weapons or evil
medicines in his power, did not rush forward to attack him.

The day was bitterly cold, and the stagnant water struck a chill to his
very bones. His teeth began to chatter with cold, not fright. It was
almost with a sense of relief that he saw the Indians start towards
him. Carefully treading in their light moccasined feet, they gradually
surrounded him and two, taking hold of him, while others loosened the
bound brave, they drew him up from the slushy earth by the arms.

He was now a captive, and not for the first time in his life. There was
nothing to be gained, he knew, by struggling, and he faced them with no
sign of fear. They led him to a fire which was blazing not far off on
firmer ground where sat a chief, who, he learned, was the werowance
Opechanchanough.