The forest--around us, above us, and under the hoofs of the horses where the fallen leaves lay thick--was as yellow as gold and as red as blood.
"Rolfe," I asked, breaking a long silence, "do you credit what the Indians say of Opechancanough ?" "That he was brother to Powhatan only by adoption ?" "That, fleeing for his life, he came to Virginia, years and years ago, from some mysterious land far to the south and west ?" "I do not know," he replied thoughtfully.

"He is like, and yet not like, the people whom he rules.

In his eye there is the authority of mind; his features are of a nobler cast "-- "And his heart is of a darker," I said.

"It is a strange and subtle savage." "Strange enough and subtle enough, I admit," he answered, "though I believe not with you that his friendliness toward us is but a mask." "Believe it or not, it is so," I said.

"That dark, cold, still face is a mask, and that simple-seeming amazement at horses and armor, guns and blue beads, is a mask.