"
When the old man had thus given vent to the nearly dormant, but far
from extinct, military pride, that had so unconsciously led him into
the very error he deprecated, his eye, which had begun to quicken and
glimmer with some of the ardour of his youth, softened and turned its
anxious look on the devoted captive, whose countenance was also
restored to its former cold look of abstraction and thought.
"Young warrior," he continued in a voice that was growing tremulous,
"I have never been father, or brother. The Wahcondah made me to live
alone. He never tied my heart to house or field, by the cords with
which the men of my race are bound to their lodges; if he had, I
should not have journeyed so far, and seen so much. But I have tarried
long among a people, who lived in those woods you mention, and much
reason did I find to imitate their courage and love their honesty. The
Master of Life has made us all, Pawnee, with a feeling for our kind. I
never was a father, but well do I know what is the love of one.
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