tribe we questioned swore that Opechancanough was at Orapax. So Master Rolfe puts off up river to find, if not you, then the Emperor, and make him give up your murderers; and the Governor sends a party along the bay, and West another up the Chickahominy. And there you were, all the time, mewed up in the village above the marshes! And Nantauquas, after saving our lives like one of us, is turned Indian again! And your man is killed! Alackaday! there’s naught but trouble in the world. ‘As the sparks fly upwards,’ you know. But a brave man draws his breath and sets his teeth.”

In his manner, his rapid talk, his uneasy glances toward the door, I found something forced and strange. “I thought Rolfe was behind me,” he said, “but he must have been delayed. There are meat and drink set out