Hardly had his head been placed on the rough support, when most of the warriors fell away, leaving one ranged on either side of the prostrate captive. These stood near his shoulders, and each grasped a huge club, the large end swinging clear of the ground, in position for them to draw it back and bring it down on the head of Smith with such force that no second blow on the part of either would be needed.
It was an awful moment. Intense silence reigned in the lodge. No one seemed to breathe, and only the soft rustle of the fire and the moaning of the wintry wind outside the wigwam broke the stillness. The position of everyone was rigid, and all eyes were fixed upon the captive and his executioners. Not a sign of pity showed on the face of anyone. The countenance of Powhatan was like that of a graven image, but his black eyes gleamed. To him the tragedy was one of fine enjoyment. He did not give any command or speak, for it was not needed. The couple with the clubs knew their duty.
At this moment of tense emotion a movement was heard on the left of the Emperor, and just behind the wife who was standing at the head of the row. With a gasping exclamation, Pocahontas dashed between the men in front of her, thrusting them out of her path, and, bounding like a fawn across the intervening space, dropped on one knee, placed an arm on either side of the Captain's head, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, looked up at her father.
"You must not kill him! He is my friend! He was kind to Pocahontas! Spare his life, dear father, for me!"
No one moved or spoke. Powhatan glared angrily at his daughter for neither she nor anyone had ever dared to do a thing like this before. Had it been anyone else, he would have struck the person dead at his feet.
But he could not raise his hand against the loved child of his heart. He started to rise, but changed his mind and sank back again. The executioners looked at him, awaiting his command, and paying no attention to the girl kneeling between them, with her arms still about the neck of Captain Smith, who looked up into her dark, pitying eyes. A warm tear fell on his bronzed forehead. With one hand Pocahontas brushed back the heavy brown hair which had dropped over his eyes, and smiling through her grief, said:
"You shall not be harmed! Your life is spared!"
"How can you know that, my good friend?"
"Do you not see?" she asked in turn, grasping one of his bound arms above the elbow, as if to help him to his feet.
At this moment Captain Smith saw what she meant by her question. The warriors with their huge clubs had stepped away from the two. Powhatan could not deny the prayer of Pocahontas, and had signalled to them to spare the life of the white man.