The Argosy, April 1912 — page 62: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

48 told me in an idle moment by Aquia in reply to some of my queries as to Indian customs. He had described to me the weird “medicine men” that attended on the great chiefs, and had told me with per- fect sincerity instances of their super- natural powers. | From Aquia’s description of such per- sons’ attire I at once concluded. and rightly, that this fear-inspiring manikin was Pow- hatan’s medicine-man. Had I doubted it, the veneration in which he was very evidently held by all the In- dians in the room would have convinced me. They looked at him as at a god. He whirled about like a wind-tossed leaf, scarce touching ground in his flying gyrations, until he halted of a sudden di- rectly in front of Powhatan. Then I saw he was foaming at the mouth as though in an epilepsy (which I believe he was). He clawed at the king’s bare arm with one clawlike hand and with the other pointed wildly at us. “Kill!” he squealed shrilly. Kill! Kill!” I confess, a chill crept down my back at the concentrated venom in the little mad- man’s cry. But Powhatan listened with unchanged face, though the warriors and councilors along the walls of the room broke into an instantly checked mutter of excite- ment. “Kill!” again, There was an ominous rustling as men felt for their weapons. But Powhatan, with a single stern gesture, enforced, peace. “Later,” soothed the king. ‘“‘Later we will hear all. Be at peace, O prophet. Leave us for the time.” But the little man, with a wolfish snarl tore away from Powhatan’s kindly touch. Twisting horribly in his fit, he again pointed to us: “Kill!” he yelled. be too late if—” He fell to the ground and writhed in convulsions. His eyes rolled back into his head. The foam-flecked lips grew stiff. Then, all at once, he grew rigid. And from between those stiff lips a voice issued. It was not the shrill falsetto wherewith his scream of “Kill! Kill” had pierced our eardrums. It was a solemn, deep, sonorous tone that filled the hushed room like an organ-note. “Too late!” breathed the voice, “too “Kall! shrieked the medicine-man “Kill now! It will THE ARGOSY. late! Their feet are on our shore. Never again shall they depart. The hour of sight is upon me. Hear your doom, O my chil- dren. Hear it!” : A moment more of that dreadful hush. Then again the voice reverberated through the great room: “I see men—millions upon millions of men—white men—from all over the earth. They pour in upon our. shores like storm- waves. They fill the land. They sweep westward. > And before their march, the wilderness vanishes as frost breath in the sun. The land shakes beneath the white man’s tread. Its waters are swarming with his great canoes. The ground and the fire and the lightning serve him like slaves.” He choked, then broke out again: ““O my people! Lords of the forest and the mountain. You are scattered like chaffz You are slain, you are robbed, you are hunted fugitives, beggars, and at the last you are swept from the face of the world. It is doom! Doom!” Like a deep bell he boomed out the last word. ‘Then the rigid body seemed to dwindle and the stiff limbs relaxed. “The hour of sight is past!” whispered Powhatan, his lips dry, his words tremu- lous. “Carry him to jis lodge and tend him until he wakes.” Reverent heads lifted the limp little figure and bore it from the hall. Pow- hatan, by a supreme effort, regained mas- tery of himself. At his commanding glance the warriors and councilors slunk back to their places. ‘““My brothers,” said the king, turning to us with grave courtesy, “will you feast with us?” He seated himself at Smith’s side. An attendant, at a gesture from the king, led me to a wide block of wood on which food was set forth. I seated myself and made as if to eat, though Heaven knows I had scant appetite. Smith, on the contrary, had quite re- covered his spirits. He chatted gaily, even boisterously, with the dusky monarch. But I sat still, my eyes furtively sweeping the room and dwelling unnoticed on each other’s face. The air was tense with trouble, even as before a furious thunder- storm. Not a face around me showed emo- tion or excitement. Not a voice, save Smith’s, was raised. But a drunken man might have felt that mysterious tension. cCoOmicloool< impending CO