"And you kept your good heart all the time? Never killed the Bostons or King George men?"
At this interrogation, Nittinat shuffled his withered limbs uneasily beneath his rush mantle, and averted his parchment countenance. Upon my pressing the question, as delicately as I knew how, he at length recovered his immobility, and answered in a plausible tone enough:
"Boston Cappen Gray, he build a fort at Clyoquot. My cousin Wiccanish sell him the ground, and Cappen Gray bring all his goods from the ship, and put them in the fort for winter. Our young men were lazy, and had not many skins to sell; but they wanted Cappen Gray's goods; they liked the firewater a heap. So the young men they say, 'kill Cappen Gray, and take his goods.' My cousin say, 'no; that a heap bad.' Nittinat say that bad too. But we tell our young men if they will do this bad thing, we will not leave them without a chief to direct them. So my young men came to Clyoquot to help their cousins take the big guns of the fort. But Cappen Gray find all out in time to save our young men from doing wrong. We tell him our hearts all good. He give us presents, make close tum-tum. No use kill Boston tyee when he give us what we want."
Charlie tilted up his sombrero, and shot an approving glance at the venerable philosopher that caused a smile to ripple Fanny's face at the instant she was saying, "The horrid wretch!" with feminine vehemence. To cover this by-play, I asked if Nittinat remembered the Tonquin.
"Oh, come!" ejaculated Charlie, starting up, "I say we have had enough of this artless historian's prattle; don't you?"
"Consider," I urged, "how rare the opportunity of verifying tradition. Compose yourself, my friend, while I continue my interviewing." Turning to Nittinat I asked: "Why did the Indians destroy Captain Thorn's vessel?"
"Cappen Thorn big chief; no like Indian; big voice; no
