They were still distant many minutes’ walk to the village when they caught sight of Pochins, a medicine man famous among many tribes for his powerful manitou, his guardian spirit, which enabled him to communicate with the manitous of the spirit world.

“Pochins, oh Pochins,” cried out Pocahontas, “come and help us.  I fear my sister is dying, and that I have killed her.  She did not wish to go into the water, Pochins, and I pulled her in and now she hath cut her head and the blood floweth from it so that I can not stop it.”

The shaman made no answer, but bent down from his great height and looked carefully at the wound, then he took the end of the stretcher from Pocahontas, saying: 

“I will bear her to my prayer lodge here nearby.”

Even then through the trees they caught sight of the bark covering of the lodge, which few persons had ever entered.  The maidens shuddered at the sight of it, for none of them knew what mysterious terrors might lie in wait for them there.  Nevertheless they followed Pochins as he bore Cleopatra inside and laid her on the ground.  From an earthen bowl he took certain herbs and bound the leaves, after he had moistened them, over the wound.  Soon Pocahontas, crouching at her sister’s side, could see that the blood had ceased to flow.  But no sign of life could be detected in the little body lying there.  The hands and feet were clammy and though Pocahontas rubbed them vigorously, she could feel no warmth stirring in them.

The shaman paid, however, no further heed to her.  From another bowl he took out a rattle of gourd, and from a peg on one of the rounded supports of the roof he lifted down a horrible mask painted in scarlet, and this he fastened over his face.  Then, waving the children out of the way, he began to dance about the two sisters and to chant in a loud voice, shaking the rattle till it seemed as if the din must waken a dead person.

“My medicine is a mighty medicine,” he exclaimed in his natural voice to Pocahontas.  “Wait a little and thou shalt see what wonders it can do.”

And indeed in a few moments Pocahontas felt the pulse start in her sister’s arm, saw her eyelids quiver and her feet grow warm.  And when the shouting and the shaking of the rattle grew even louder and more hideous, Cleopatra opened her eyes and looked about her in astonishment.

“Mighty indeed is the medicine (the magic) of Pochins,” cried the shaman proudly as he laid aside mask and rattle; “it hath brought this maiden back from the dead.”

Pocahontas now had to soothe the child, terrified by the sights she had seen and the sounds she had heard.  She patted her arms and spoke to her as if she were a papoose on her back: 

“Fear not, little one, no evil shall come to thee.  Pocahontas watcheth over thee.  She will not close her eyes while danger prowleth about.  Fear naught, little one.”

And Cleopatra clung to her, feeling a sense of security in her sister’s fearlessness.