All night there was a beating rain, which washed away the last trace of the carefully hidden trail of the Indian travelers. When Nonowit crawled out into the sunshine the following morning, he could learn nothing of their direction. To get a wider view, he wandered through the thick forest to the river's edge, but there discovered no signs of his people. "There are so many children in the camp I might not be missed," he thought and dropped upon a rock in one little heap of loneliness.
Suddenly he sat very straight, for there beyond the Narrows he saw a monstrous thing. Could it be a huge bird with white wings spread? Over the water it seemed to be coming nearer. Instinctively he slid into a crevice between the rocks, yet without moving his gaze. Through the Narrows, under full sail, came the first ship. Nonowit seemed to become a part of the brown earth as he wriggled back into the undergrowth, never moving his wide-open eyes from this strange sight.
Then came the rattle of chains and the voices of men. A boat was lowered, and Nonowit, safe under the cover of the low branches, saw it headed for his shore. Men with white skin and hair growing on their faces landed on the very rock on which he had been sitting. Their clothes were unlike any he had ever seen before, and their speech could not be understood. Cautiously he backed into the forest until he gained the branches of the oak in which he had slept. Yet that was unsafe, for the white men looked up into every tree, breaking the branches and tasting the sap.
In his fright, Nonowit wriggled for safety through the very hole from which the owl had flown the night before. There from the dark hollows he watched the white men as they studied each tree. They came at last to the old oak and shook its branches. When one man even climbed far enough to look deep into the trunk, Nonowit crouched to the very ground, holding his breath. The shadows protected him and the men passed on. "Worse than wolves," thought the boy as he ventured again to his peep-hole. The white men lingered about for an hour or more, until the imprisoned little Indian felt that he might never see his people again. He would starve rather than face such creatures.
At last, there came the sound of oars on the water. Creeping from the tree, Nonowit pushed aside the low branches to see the boatful of strangers depart. Suddenly a strong hand was clapped on his shoulder. He jumped with fear only to find himself in the grasp of his own father. Nonowit pointed hastily through the thick growth to the river, and the two watched the English vessel sail up the stream, but history reports that Martin Pring saw no Indians when he searched the Piscataqua shores for a sassafras tree, which, he believed, held the "Elixir of Life."
