The rich color surged up into her dark face as she answered shyly, "I am Winona, daughter of the chief Windango."
At that moment there entered the same wrinkled old chief.
"What dost thou here, Winona?" he said sternly. "This is no place for thee."
"I came but with Occoma, father," she answered. "She brought the pale man some venison."
"Begone!" he said, and turning his back upon her, he bent over and cut the thongs that bound me. "Come," he said.
I followed him, escorted by the two guards who had each taken an arm and were holding to me with an iron grasp. Passing down the street of the encampment, we halted in front of a long, low building, which stood in the center of the place. Drawing aside the curtain of deer skin, Windango, for such was my guide, motioned for me to enter. I did so, and dropping the curtain he followed.
I found myself in a long, low room, its walls made of rude, unfinished logs, with a thatched roof. A large fire burned in the center of the room, and around it there squatted upon the hard mud floor the whole band of warriors, their fierce faces scowling at me through the smoke; for there was no opening in the roof, and the smoke from the fire was so dense that it was almost impossible to see. Almost blinded, my eyes stinging and watering from the thick haze which hung over the room, I staggered to a place in the front rank to which Windango motioned me.
A deep silence reigned. From hand to hand a great long-stemmed red pipe, decorated with feathers, was being passed, each warrior as it reached him taking a puff, and then solemnly passing it on to his neighbor. It was handed to me by Windango, and taking a puff, I passed it on. A full hour it was in going the rounds, and when the last warrior had been reached, the old chief by my side arose.
"The ears of the Cherokees are open to hear the words of my brother Manteo. Let him speak."