"Bring him to me."

Two braves rushed forward to the tree, on which all eyes were now fixed.
It was difficult to distinguish anything through the falling snow and
the mass of its flakes that had gathered in the crotch. All was white
there, yet there was something white which moved, and the two braves on
reaching the tree trunk yelled in delight and disdain.

The white figure moved rapidly now. Swinging itself out on a branch and
catching hold of a higher one, it seemed determined to retreat from its
pursuers to the very summit of the tree. But the braves did not waste
time in climbing after it; they leapt up in the air like panthers,
caught the branch and swung it vigorously back and forth so that the
creature's feet slipped from under it and it fell into their
outstretched arms.

Not waiting even to investigate the white bundle of fur, the warriors,
surrounded by their curious fellows, bore it to Opechanchanough, and
laid it on the ground before him. He knelt and lifted up the cap of
rabbit skin with flapping ears that hid the face, then cried out in
angry astonishment:

"Pocahontas! What meaneth this trick?"

And the white fur bundle, rising to her feet, laughed and laughed till
the oldest and staidest warrior could not help smiling. But
Opechanchanough did not smile; he was too angry. His dignity suffered at
thus being made the sport of a child. He shook his niece, saying:

"What meaneth this, I ask? What meaneth this?"