"Ugh!" responded Nittinat, nodding his tall extinguisher. "Wiccanish go on board big ship, see cappen."
"And stole the spoons," murmured Charlie from under his hat.
Fanny touched his foot with the stick of her parasol, for she stood in awe of this ancient historian, not wishing to be made a subject of his powerful "medicine."
"And so you knew Captain Cook?" I repeated, when the spoons were hidden once more under the mantle of rushes, "and other white men too, I suppose. Did your people and the white people always keep on friendly terms?"
"Me have good heart," answered Nittinat rather sadly. "Me and my cousins Wiccanish, Clyoquot, Maquinna, and Tatoocheatticus, we like heap sell our furs, and get knives, beads, and brass buttons. Heap like nails, chisels, and such things. If my young men sometimes stole very little things, Nittinat's heart was not little. He made the white chiefs welcome to wood and water; he gave them his women; and sometime make a big feast—kill two, three, six slaves. White chief heap mean to make trouble about a few chains or hammers after all that!"
"Oh, the horrid wretch!" whispered Fanny: "Does he say he killed half a dozen slaves for amusement?"
"If he did, Miss Lane," I answered; "was it worse than the elegant Romans used to do? The times and the manners have to be considered, you know."
Fanny shuddered, but said nothing, and I went on addressing myself to Nittinat:
"How many ships did you ever see in these waters at one time?—I mean long ago, in Captain Cook's time?"
The old chief held up five fingers, for answer.
"And you and your cousins were friendly to all of them?"
"Maquinna's heart good, too,—close tum-tum. Sell land to one Cappen; he go 'way. Sell land to other Cappen; he
