Pocahontas.

"Matoaka," he cried, stepping from the shadow; "what dost thou here
alone at night?"

His sister did not scream nor jump at this sudden interruption. She
seized her brother's hand and pressed it gently.

"It was such a beautiful night, Nautauquas," she replied, "that I could
not lie sleeping in the lodge. I come often here."

"And hast thou no fear, little sister?" he asked affectionately; "no
fear of wild animals or of our enemies?"

"Wild animals will not hurt me. I patted a mother bear with cubs one
night, and she did not even growl."

Nautauquas did not doubt her word. He knew that there were certain human
beings whom beasts will not hurt.

"And enemies," she continued, "would not venture so near the village of
the mighty Powhatan."

"I heard thee singing, little White Feather; what was thy song?"

"I made it many moons ago," she answered, "and I sing it always when I
dance here at night. Listen then, thou shalt hear the song Matoaka,
daughter of Powhatan, made to sing in the woods by Werowocomoco."

And she danced slowly, imitating with head and hands, body and feet, the