hurt. My joints were swollen with the bonds, and every sinew seemed as
stiff as wire. The skin had been scorched on my shins and feet, and was
peeling off in patches, but the ointment which had been rubbed on it
had taken the worst ache out of the wounds. I tottered to my feet, and
found that I could stand, and even move slowly like an old man. My
clothes had been brought back and laid beside me, and with much
difficulty I got into them; but I gave up the effort to get my
stockings and boots over my scorched legs. My pistols, too, had been
restored, and Ringan's sword, and the gold amulet he had entrusted to
me. Somehow, in the handling of me, my store of cartouches had
disappeared from my pockets. My pistols were loaded and ready for use,
but that was the extent of my defences, for I was no more good with
Ringan's sword than with an Indian bow.

A young lad brought me some maize porridge and a skin of water. I could
eat little of the food, but I drank the water to the last drop, for my
throat was as dry as the nether pit. After that I lay down on my couch
again, for it seemed to me that I would need to treasure every atom of
my strength. The meal had put a little heart in me--heart enough to
wait dismally on the next happening.

Presently the chief whom they called Onotawah stood at the tent door,
and with him a man who spoke the Powhatan tongue.

"Greeting, brother," he said.

"Greeting," I answered, in the stoutest tone I could muster.

"I come from the council of the young men, where the blood of our kin
cries for the avenger. The Sons of the West Wind have seen the courage