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Updated: May 5, 2025
At the mention of beads and blankets the face of the wily chief brightened for a moment. Then he said, sternly "The heart of the Pale-face is not true. He has come here to trade for himself. San-it-sa-rish has eyes that can see they are not shut. Are not these your goods?" The chief pointed to the pack-horse as he spoke.
"Wah!" grunted the chief; "it is good. The great chief is wise. We will smoke the pipe of peace." The things that afforded so much satisfaction to San-it-sa-rish were the veriest trifles. Penny looking-glasses in yellow gilt tin frames, beads of various colours, needles, cheap scissors, and knives, vermilion paint, and coarse scarlet cloth, etcetera.
This allusion to keeping all the goods had more effect on the minds of the vacillating savages than the chief's eloquence. But a new turn was given to their thoughts by Joe Blunt remarking in a quiet, almost contemptuous tone, "Mahtawa is not the great chief." "True, true," they cried, and immediately hurried to the tent of San-it-sa-rish.
An end was put to this by San-it-sa-rish desiring the hunters to enter the tent, and spreading a buffalo robe for them to sit on. Two braves carried in their packs and then led away their horses.
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