muskets. These last I soon discovered to be toëns, or elders, of the tribe. They stood and observed us with great gravity (indeed in all my acquaintance with them I never knew one to smile) and in absolute silence. I could not tell how many the fog concealed. They made no aggressive movement.
I called to Margit, bidding her leave the cauldron and walk quietly towards us; and she did so. Almost at once a savage thrust his lance into the pot, drew out our dinner on the end of it, and laid it on the sand. One of the toëns then cut up the pork with his knife and handed the portions round, retaining a large lump for himself.
Seeing this, some of our men were for hostilities: but I restrained them and we made our meal from a barrel of biscuit, eating in silence while the natives chewed away at the pork. The meal over, we fell to work and finished the second tent without opposition, though curiosity drew some of our visitors so near as to hamper the workmen. When thrust aside they showed no resentment, but after a minute drew near again and impeded us as badly as ever.
Towards nightfall the main body drew off—whither, the fog did not reveal: but one or two entered the tents with us, hung around while we supped, and without the least invitation stretched themselves down to sleep. I own that this impudence tried my temper sorely, and Obed—the only one of us who knew some scraps of the language of these Indians—went so far as to remonstrate with
