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 stern, and fastened to trees on the bank as moorings for the vessel.

Captain Newport went ashore and was immediately shaking hands with his friends and members of the council. Before he set foot on the shore he became aware that some evil cloud was overshadowing the little colony which he had left in fair circumstances six months before. Although the men were shouting and tossing their hats with joy, it was rather the joy of prison-worn captives at the opening of their dungeon doors than anything else he could think of. Then, too, there were not half so many as he expected. He hoped the rest were away at work in the woods, but he feared not.

As soon as possible he sought out one of the council, a stalwart man with a rough, heavy beard and a face browned and seamed by a life of exposure and warfare in all four quarters of the globe—in short, Captain John Smith—to learn what had passed in the colony since his departure. Newport and Smith were both members of the council, and as such had never agreed; but, although Newport was vain and incompetent and jealous of Smith, he knew the latter was honest and competent and would tell