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My sons, the palefaces, are of another race; they may believe any lies they choose, for it is naught to Taggarak. But none of Taggarak's people shall believe it! And if the Shawanoe seeks to turn them from the faith of their fathers, the Shawanoe shall die! My sons will tell the Shawanoe what Taggarak has said, that when he comes among the Blackfeet he shall live.
Deerfoot, without removing his knees, watched the eyes until they slowly opened and glared upward with a dazed expression. The youth had removed his fingers from the wrist of the chief. He now bent his face close to his and asked: "Who now is master the Blackfoot or the Shawanoe? Whose God is the greater Taggarak's or Deerfoot's?" But the chieftain was game.
His fleetness of foot, his skill with bow and rifle, his personal daring and prowess, his quickness and strength, his comeliness of face and form, were dwelt upon and pictured in the most glowing language. The chieftain Taggarak's question of the messengers was characteristic, as was their reply. "Are all the warriors of the Shawanoes like this youth of whom you tell these strange stories?"
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