Powhatan was too clever to be fooled by any such delightful promise; he knew the quick-witted Captain was probably playing the same game that he was, and feared lest the white man should be quicker than he at it. He slyly whispered a command to a young warrior, and at a sign from him two gaily decorated squaws darted forward and, squatting at the feet of the Captain, began to sing tribal songs to the beating of drums and shaking of rattles, and while they sang Powhatan silently drew his fur robe about him and stole away to a forest retreat long prepared for an hour of danger. Before him went a supply of provisions, and with him some women and children, but not Pocahontas. Meeting her father in his hasty flight, she listened to his request that she go with him, but with a laughing gesture of refusal she fled through the woods to the place where the white men were grouped. The old Chief's power over his daughter had been greatly weakened by the coming of the colonists to Jamestown, and who knows what a fire of envy that may have kindled in his heart?
As soon as the Emperor reached his hiding-place, he sent an old Sachem in war paint and feathers back to Captain Smith, bearing a valuable bracelet as an offering, and saying that his chief had fled because he feared the white man's weapons, but if they could be laid aside, he, Powhatan, would return to give the colonists an abundance of corn. Captain Smith, with arms folded and flashing eyes, refused the bracelet and the request, and the Sachem went back to carry the news to Powhatan.
Pocahontas had watched the interview with breathless interest, and when she saw the old warrior turn away, and knew that Captain Smith had foiled her father's intent, she knew that the brave Caucarouse was in great danger. That night, while all the Englishmen except their leader were out hunting, the Captain sat alone in his wigwam musing on ways and means to gain his end. There was a sound in the still forest—a crackling of underbrush—he roused at a light touch on his arm. Pocahontas stood by his side, alone in the darkness; swiftly she whispered her message and he understood its gravity only too well.
"My father is going to send you food, and, if you eat it, you will die," she said. "It is not safe for you to stay here any longer. Oh, go! I beg you, go!"
She was shivering in her fear for his safety, and the Captain was deeply moved by her emotion. Raising her hand to his lips in his wonted fashion, he thanked her and offered her the choicest beads in his store for a remembrance, but she would not accept them!
"He would want to know where I got them, and then he would kill me, too," she said, and vanished as silently and swiftly as she had come.
As she had reported, soon there came warriors from Powhatan bearing huge vessels filled with food, smoking hot. The Chief had returned to Werewocomoco, they said, and wished to show his good-will to the white men. Would they partake of a feast which he had sent?
They set down their burden of tempting food, and the Captain's eyes gleamed; with a profound bow he thanked Powhatan for his courtesy, but he said:
"When we English make a feast for any one, we ourselves first taste each dish before we offer it to our guests. If you would have me eat what you have brought, you must first taste of each dish yourselves."
His manner was defiant as he stood waiting for them to accept his challenge, and, seeing they made no move to touch what they had brought, he said, still more defiantly: