"Pochins, oh Pochins," cried out Pocahontas, "come and help us. I fear
my sister is dying, and that I have killed her. She did not wish to go
into the water, Pochins, and I pulled her in and now she hath cut her
head and the blood floweth from it so that I can not stop it."

The shaman made no answer, but bent down from his great height and
looked carefully at the wound, then he took the end of the stretcher
from Pocahontas, saying:

"I will bear her to my prayer lodge here nearby."

Even then through the trees they caught sight of the bark covering of
the lodge, which few persons had ever entered. The maidens shuddered at
the sight of it, for none of them knew what mysterious terrors might lie
in wait for them there. Nevertheless they followed Pochins as he bore
Cleopatra inside and laid her on the ground. From an earthen bowl he
took certain herbs and bound the leaves, after he had moistened them,
over the wound. Soon Pocahontas, crouching at her sister's side, could
see that the blood had ceased to flow. But no sign of life could be
detected in the little body lying there. The hands and feet were clammy
and though Pocahontas rubbed them vigorously, she could feel no warmth
stirring in them.

The shaman paid, however, no further heed to her. From another bowl he
took out a rattle of gourd, and from a peg on one of the rounded
supports of the roof he lifted down a horrible mask painted in scarlet,
and this he fastened over his face. Then, waving the children out of the
way, he began to dance about the two sisters and to chant in a loud
voice, shaking the rattle till it seemed as if the din must waken a dead
person.