At this whispered imputation upon his honor, the old chief regarded us scornfully; though how such a parchment countenance could be made to express anything excited my wonder.
"Me no lie. Nittinat's heart big. Nittinat's heart good. Close tum-tum, ugh!"
"White man's eyes are closed—his heart is darkened," said I, adopting what I considered to be a conciliatory style of speech. "My friend cannot understand how you could have known Captain Cook so long ago. All the white men who knew the great white chief have gone to their fathers."
"Ugh, all same as Cappen Cook. He no believe my cousin Wiccanish see big Spanish ship 'fore he came."
"How did he make him see it at last?" asked Charlie, stretching himself out on the grass, and covering his eyes with his hat, from under the brim of which he shot quizzical glances at Fanny and I.
"Wiccanish showed Cook these," replied Nittinat, drawing from beneath his robe a necklace of shells, to which two silver spoons were attached, of a peculiar pattern, and much battered and worn.
"Oh, do let me see them," cried Fanny, whose passion for relics was quickly aroused. Charlie, too, was constrained to abandon his lazy attitude for a moment to examine such a curiosity as these quaint old spoons.
"Only to think that they are more than a hundred years old! But I cannot make out the lettering upon them; perhaps he is deceiving us after all," said Fanny, passing them to me for inspection.
I took out of my pocket a small magnifying-glass, which, although it could not restore what was worn away, brought to light all that was left of an inscription, probably the manufacturer's trade-mark, the only legible part of which was 17–0.
"Did the Spanish captain give these to your cousin?" I asked.
