He must have been born a chief for he was young, very dignified, and
very good-looking, too, for an Indian. Of course his face was painted
in a hideous way, but his leggings and clothing generally were far
more tidy than those of most Indians. His chest was literally covered
with polished teeth of animals, beads, and wampum, arranged
artistically in a sort of breastplate, and his scalp lock, which had
evidently been plaited with much care, was ornamented with a very
beautiful long feather.
Fortunately Faye was at home when he came, for he walked right in,
unannounced, except the usual "How!" Faye gave him a chair, and this
he placed in the middle of the room in a position so he could watch
both doors, and then his rifle was laid carefully upon the floor at
his right side. He could speak his name, but not another word of
English, so, thinking to entertain him, Faye reached for a rifle that
was standing in one corner of the room to show him, as it was of a
recent make. Although the rifle was almost at the Indian's back the
suspicious savage saw what Faye was doing, and like a flash he seized
his own gun and laid it across his knees, all the time looking
straight at Faye to see what he intended to do next. Not a muscle of
his race moved, but his eyes were wonderful, brilliant, and piercing,
and plainly said, "Go ahead, I'm ready!"
I saw the whole performance and was wondering if I had not better run
for assistance, when Faye laughed, and motioned the Indian to put his
rifle down again, at the same time pulling the trigger of his own to
assure him that it was not loaded.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122