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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Well, no I believe not. At least there is none for red-men. Why do you ask? Did you ever taste fire-water?" The Indian's dark eyes seem to gleam with unwonted light as he replied in tones more solemn than usual: "Yes. Once only once a white brother gave some fire-water to Big Otter." "Humph!" ejaculated Macnab, "and what did you think of it!"
"What the Pale-face chief has said is good," began the Indian. "His words are wise, and his heart is not double. The Red-men are willing to smoke the pipe of peace, and to hunt with all men as brothers, but they cannot do it while many of their scalps are hanging in the lodges of their enemies and fringing the robes of the warriors. The Peigans must have vengeance; then they will make peace."
Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, "We three do not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only, lodge with them for a time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make peace with the Red-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with them to exchange hatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs."
That night the hostile savages met on the shores of Lake Wichikagan, and encamped with the fur-traders. Fires were lighted, and kettles put on, a royal feast was prepared; and the reunited tribes of red-men finally buried the war-hatchet there, and smoked the pipe of peace.
After a brief pause he resumed, "Was the Great Master of Life good to the wicked pale-faces, when He allowed the red-men to slay them in their sins?" "Yes," I returned, "He was good, because the Great Master of Life cannot be otherwise than good. He has made our brains capable of understanding that, and our hearts capable of resting on it. But He is our Father.
But these extravaganzas only show that Nantucket is no Illinois. Look now at the wondrous traditional story of how this island was settled by the red-men. Thus goes the legend. In olden times an eagle swooped down upon the New England coast, and carried off an infant Indian in his talons. With loud lament the parents saw their child borne out of sight over the wide waters.
Next afternoon Mr Tidey and I were riding ahead followed by Boxer and another of our dogs without whom indeed, we never left the camp, as they were sure to give us timely warning should any Indians be lurking around. We knew, however, that they would not attack the red-men, of whom they seemed to have an instinctive dread, but would silently slink close to us, should any enemies be near.
The shock of the hand of the Great Spirit did not escape me; for hours I lay like one slain in battle. My warriors were in consternation; they ran hither and thither in affright, calling on the Manitou to preserve their chief. "From that hour Sitting Bull was your friend is your friend, now, and will be as long as the red-men exist as a tribe."
Between them and the whole family of red-men there existed a sort of innate dislike; an antipathy that originated in colour, and wool, and habits, and was in no degree lessened by apprehensions on the score of scalps. "How you look, ole Plin, widout wool?"
"Now," continued Lumley, coming to the marrow of his discourse, "the red-men have more than enough of furs." "Waugh!" in a tone of emphasis, that implied "that's true." "And the pale-faces have few furs, but want some very much." "Waugh?" interrogatively, in a tone that implied "what then?" "Well, but the pale-faces are not poor. They are rich, and have far too much of many things.
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