Looking now through the crack, he saw the lad dragged forth toward the priests. His cries for mercy were met by the taunting “Ohe, Ohe,” of his tormentors. No time was to be lost. Turning to Adam he said, “Give me your powder-horn.”
“Take heed what you do, Smith,” implored Adam, his teeth clashing together like castanets, and the knob on his nose working like a pig’s snout with excitement.
“Keep still, and hand me your horn. Stir not from this spot, no matter what happens.” So saying, Captain Smith and Pocahontas disappeared, leaving Adam alone. Now and then curiosity overpowered fear, and he would look again through the crack, only to fall back and begin petitions for deliverance.
Running around to a spot in full view of the door, Captain Smith emptied the powder in Adam’s horn into a piece of clay pipe lying near. Then inserting a lighted fuse, he took to his heels. Fleeing around the corner he ran full tilt into the unconscious Adam, with his eye glued to the crack, and both rolled to the ground. Not knowing what had assaulted him, Adam let out a yell that would have wakened the dead kings lying in state, had it not been drowned in the explosion of the gunpowder.
A roar of thunder split the air, followed by blinding flashes of flame. For a moment a deathly silence hung over the Indians, then shrieks and yells burst from the painted demons. Pandemonium reigned as they fled from the temple. Leading the vanguard was Powhatan, clinging to a litter borne on the shoulders of four warriors who sped away in the darkness.
In the midst of the confusion, Pocahontas snatched the white boy up and made for the place where Captain Smith was vainly trying to pacify the terrified Adam, who was now wallowing on the ground.
“Stop your howls, or I will leave you to the mercy of the Indians! Get up, we have not a moment to lose. Pocahontas is here with the boy. We must hasten to the boat for our lives.”
Leading the way as guide, with the boy clasped in her strong young arms, Pocahontas plunged into the swamp. Over morass, through matted vines, she went with unerring instinct, followed by Smith, trundling the unwieldy form of Adam before him. Down into a hole went Adam for the second time, leaving a boot as a memento of the adventure. As he hobbled painfully along, sick with misery and fear, his strength gave out, and with a moan he pitched forward. Losing no time in an examination of the unfortunate man, Smith merely rolled him over, and catching him in the back of his collar, dragged him along in his flight.