“Pardon, Powhatan! Pardon, my father!” she cried in a rich voice quivering with emotion. “Pocahontas craves the life of the captive, and claims the right to adopt him as a brother according to the immemorial custom of our tribe.” Powhatan was in a quandary. Pocahontas was his favorite daughter, his pet, and the comfort of his old age. He had never denied her anything, nor ever thought to do so. He had a strong inclination to grant her request, but as he looked round the circle of angry faces and heard the subdued mutterings of his chiefs he hesitated to incur their discontent. “The Council has decreed the death of the paleface. It can not be, my daughter,” he said. But there was an unusual trace of indecision in his voice. “It _must_ be, my father!” cried the girl, with spirit. “Is a princess, and your child, to be denied the right that every woman of our tribe enjoys? Any woman of the Powhatans may redeem a condemned prisoner by adopting him, and I--I, Pocahontas, daughter of our king, claim this man for my brother.” Powhatan was deeply moved by the dignified and earnest plea of the girl and was about to accede to it when Opechancanough leaned forward and whispered in his ear. The words of the Chief of the Pamaunkes, whatever they were, seemed to be decisive, for Powhatan, with a gesture of mingled annoyance and regret, signed to the executioners to perform their task. The eyes of Pocahontas had been anxiously fixed upon her father during this pause in the proceedings and, as she saw his sign of submission to the argument of the Pamaunke, she threw herself upon the head of Smith and entwined her arms about his neck. She had nothing further to say, realizing that words would have no effect, but, with the quick wit of a woman, she had advanced an argument which was unanswerable. The executioners dropped their clubs and looked perplexedly towards the Werowance. The assembled warriors gazed expectantly in the same direction. The affair had reached an _impasse_. None there dared lay a hand on the girl save the Powhatan, and he had no thought of doing so. He gazed at her with proud satisfaction for a few moments, whilst a presentiment took possession of his mind that this slip of a girl had unwittingly saved her tribe from a world of possible troubles. “Let be!” he said with an air of weariness. “The paleface shall be adopted into the tribe to make hatchets for me and beads for his little sister.” With that Smith was unbound and taken to a wigwam where they brought him food and left him to wonder at the marvellous workings of Providence and pass a peaceful night.