Although no such clouds of smoke hung above London then as infold it to-day, there was enough to impress our young savage with the belief that a forest fire must be raging just beyond the buildings that obstructed his view. This belief was strengthened by the ceaseless roar of the city, that, to him, held the same elements of terror as the awful voice of a wide-spread conflagration.
If Tasquanto were only with him that they might discuss these things. But, alas! he was alone, as unfitted for a life-struggle amid those heretofore undreamed-of surroundings as a newborn babe, and, like it, unprovided with a language understandable by those about him. Set down in the heart of a primeval forest he would have been perfectly at home; but face to face with this hideous wilderness of human construction he was appalled at his own insignificance and utter helplessness.
As he turned away terror-stricken he noticed that several persons gathered about Captain Dermer were regarding him curiously. One of them, a young man of about Nahma's own age, apparently touched by the hopeless expression on our lad's painted face, stepped towards him with outstretched hand.
"Winslow," he said, pointing to himself.
"Massasoit," answered the other, promptly, and indicating his own person.
Although he could not understand the newcomer's words he appreciated the hearty grip of his hand, and, gazing into his honest eyes, felt that here was one who might become a friend.
"What are you going to do with him?" inquired Winslow, stepping back beside Captain Dermer.
"Let him go when he can pay his passage-money, or turn him over to the first person who will pay it for him," was the reply.
"What is the sum?"
"Twenty pounds, no more nor less."