The Cherokees ever watched my slightest motion; a brave would follow me all day long, throughout all my journeys, and at night would sleep in the doorway of my hut, so that I could not step outside without awakening him. Several times I had accompanied the Indians upon their hunts, but never did I have an opportunity to escape. Ever there kept at my side one of the warriors, and twist and turn as I would I could not shake him off. He clung to me with the tenacity of a leech, and so finally in disgust I gave up the effort, and returned quietly to the village. I had watched every chance to free myself, but I could never find a propitious opportunity. Someone was ever at my heels, and so I waited as best I might for Manteo to return. I had craved pardon for my suspicion of him before he left, and with his stately air he had answered: "It is nothing; the Eagle for a moment thought that Manteo would betray him, but he knows better now, and Manteo's heart is glad. He but struck up his brother's thunder tube because he knew that if a Cherokee had fallen, then would the Eagle have been burned at the stake." And with a smile he left me. I had another friend in the sweet Indian maid, Winona. Often would I find in my hut, when I returned from a long stroll, some choice fruit, or a fat turkey, browned to a crisp. Once a deerskin doublet had hung on the wall, at another time there had been a wampum belt, and I knew whose deft fingers had been at work. When I had fretted myself into a fever, it was Winona who brought me cool-water and nourishing food, and with her light hands had soothed my fevered brow and waited upon me until I had been myself again. Often she would sing some wild love song of the savages to me, sitting opposite and looking at me with a strange, sweet light in her dark eyes, which had almost frightened me, for I feared that she had grown to love me. I grieved that her warm young heart should be disappointed and wounded, for there was but one woman for me, wild or civilized, and that was the blue-eyed maid, who somewhere in yonder dim region which loomed before me, chafed and fretted, a prisoner of Lord Dunraven. And so it was with a heavy heart this bright morning that I sat opposite the Indian girl, and saw that same warm, tender light in her great black eyes--those eyes that were the envy of her girlish companions, and the despair of all the young bucks of the village, who scowled at me as I passed them on the street. One of them in particular loathed me with a fierce, unbending hate, the young brave Chawanook, who had found favor with Winona until I had arrived upon the scene, when she straightaway turned her back upon him, and would have naught more to do with the young warrior. He had immediately saddled me with the blame, and but waited for a favorable opportunity to revenge himself.