Books for you

"It is far to the village of the Loups," he said, stretching his arm
in a direction contrary to that in which, the trapper well knew, the
tribe dwelt, "and the road is crooked. What has the Big-knife to say?"
"Ay, crooked enough!" muttered the old man in English, "if you are to
set out on your journey by that path, but not half so winding as the
cunning of an Indian's mind. Say, my brother; do the chiefs of the
Pawnees love to see strange faces in their lodges?"
The young warrior bent his body gracefully, though but slightly, over
the saddle-bow, as he replied--
"When have my people forgotten to give food to the stranger?"
"If I lead my daughters to the doors of the Loups, will the women take
them by the hand; and will the warriors smoke with my young men?"
"The country of the Pale-faces is behind them. Why do they journey so
far towards the setting sun? Have they lost the path, or are these the
women of the white warriors, that I hear are wading up the river of
'the troubled waters?'"
"Neither.


Pages:
397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421