And now on the fifteenth day of our departure from Roanoke Island we still followed after them. Manteo, who glided in front, was striding along, his eyes as usual upon the ground. I following him, was wondering for the one hundreth time whether it was possible that this could be Margaret, and if so how she came there, and who were her companions; Dunraven of course, and the pale one, as the Indian called Marsden. Who was the third white man? It might be DeNortier, and so musing I bumped suddenly into the Indian, who had halted, and almost threw him sprawling upon the ground. "Hush!" he whispered, his finger upraised. I stopped, as did the man behind me, and listened. Far away I could hear the deep regular strokes of an ax; plainly someone was chopping, but who in this wilderness?? "Wait here," muttered Manteo. "I will see who it is that cuts so loudly," and with that he glided silently away, across the little open glade in front of us, and into the trees upon the other side. A few minutes passed, and then he came back again as silently as he had left. "Come," he said, and he turned and retraced his steps whence he had come. We followed him for perhaps ten minutes, and then emerging from the trees, we came full upon a strange Indian. Bow in hand, he sat quietly by the side of a charred tree, which he had been fashioning into a canoe with a stone tomahawk, after burning out the heart of the tree. He arose gravely as I approached, and stood looking at me, his fierce eyes scanning my face searchingly. "This is the great white chief, the Eagle," said Manteo to the other brave. "Tell him what thou hast seen." The Indian answered, speaking in what appeared to be a dialect of the same tongue that Manteo spoke, and though it differed in some respects, I could yet manage to understand what he said. "The sun has stood still twice, since Occom beheld a strange sight, for as he sat in this same spot, he heard the sound of feet approaching, and hiding himself, there passed by three pale men, and a squaw more lovely than the harvest moon. They had with them Tetto, one of the Tuscaroras, and as Occom looked they disappeared on down the trail, and I saw them no more." "What manner of men were they, my brother?" I asked. "The chief was tall, with dark hair, and his face was as the stone; the look upon it was like the hawk when he wheels to strike his prey." It was Dunraven without a doubt, the Indian had described him well. But who were his companions? "And what of the others?" I continued. "Did the eye of Occom behold the others?" "Occom saw them," he answered. "The one who walked behind the chief was as the pale moon, when afraid it shrinks behind the clouds, and when the chief spoke to him harshly, he drew back in fear; he is a squaw and should till the soil with them." "And what of the third?--what of him, Occom?"