Many a story had he told her of the lands beyond the sea, where lived the little English boys and girls whom he had left behind him, and Pocahontas was never tired of listening to the tales of that fair England that Smith loved so well. How different it was from her own home, and how she would like to see those blue-eyed, fair-haired children, whose lives were so unlike her own. Ah, it was such a cruel thing to think that this good man must die. If she could only save him in some way, how glad she would be. And he was so brave too, he did not flinch when he was told that he must die--not even when he was told that he was to be put to death in the most cruel way that the Indians could think of. And so the Indian maiden grieved and grieved and tried to think of some way in which she might save her friend's life, but she could not. At length the time came for his execution. He was brought out in the village square, and after his hands and feet were bound he was stretched on the ground with his head resting upon a great stone. Beside him stood an Indian with a great club in his hand with which he was to dash out the Englishman's brains. The club was lifted in the air and in another moment would have fallen upon Smith's head, had not Pocahontas, who at the last moment resolved to save his life at the risk of her own, rushed up to the spot and, clasping the captive's head in her arms, begged her father with tears in her eyes to spare his life. Powhatan was touched by his daughter's sorrow and listened to her request; he ordered Smith's bonds to be taken off, and said that he would spare his life. So Smith rose from the ground a free man, and with an escort of twelve men was sent back to Jamestown.