stream into which he stumbles, and here is taken.

See him now before "Opechancanough, King of Pamaunck!" Savages and
procedures of the more civilized with savages have, the world over, a
family resemblance. Like many a man before him and after, Smith casts about
for a propitiatory wonder. He has with him, so fortunately, "a round ivory
double-compass dial." This, with a genial manner, he would present to
Opechancanough. The savages gaze, cannot touch through the glass the moving
needle, grunt their admiration. Smith proceeds, with gestures and what
Indian words he knows, to deliver a scientific lecture. Talking is best
anyhow, will give them less time in which to think of those men he shot. He
tells them that the world is round, and discourses about the sun and moon
and stars and the alternation of day and night. He speaks with eloquence of
the nations of the earth, of white men, yellow men, black men, and red men,
of his own country and its grandeurs, and would explain antipodes.

Apparently all is waste breath and of no avail, for in an hour see him
bound to a tree, a sturdy figure of a man, bearded and moustached, with a
high forehead, clad in shirt and jerkin and breeches and hosen and shoon,
all by this time, we may be sure, profoundly in need of repair. The tree
and Smith are ringed by Indians, each of whom has an arrow fitted to his
bow. Almost one can hear a knell ringing in the forest! But Opechancanough,
moved by the compass, or willing to hear more of seventeenth-century
science, raises his arm and stops the execution. Unbinding Smith, they take
him with them as a trophy. Presently all reach their town of Orapaks.

Here he was kindly treated. He saw Indian dances, heard Indian orations.
The women and children pressed about him and admired him greatly. Bread and
venison were given him in such quantity that he feared that they meant to
fatten and eat him. It is, moreover, dangerous to be considered powerful