"White wives included, I presume. Well," said Charlie, "I think this interview might be brought to a close. Hold fast to Pierre and I, Fanny, or the wizard may spirit you off to his wigwam, to inaugurate the good time coming that he speaks of."
So saying, Charlie rose to his feet, stretched his limbs lazily, and turned to disengage his sister's veil from a vicious thorn-bush in our way. Not succeeding immediately, I lent my assistance, and the delicate tissue being at last rescued with some care, turned to say farewell to the chief of all the Nittinats, when lo! I addressed myself to space.
"The old cove has taken himself off as mysteriously as he came. That is a confounded good trick; could'nt do it better myself. Does anybody miss anything?" was Charlie's running comment on the transaction.
"Can't say that I do, unless it is my luncheon. I'm ravenously hungry, and every sandwich gone. Could that dreadful old ghoul have eaten those you gave him, Charlie? Do you know, I couldn't help thinking he must be a ghost?"
"Well, the ghost of an Indian could eat, steal, and beg, I should think. I felt like rattling his dry bones, when he so coolly confessed to the most atrocious murders of white men."
"That is because you are not an Indian, I presume," said I, with a heavy sense of conviction about what I gave expression to. "Indian virtue is not white men's virtue. If it won you rank, and riches, and power, to become a mighty slayer, a slayer you would undoubtedly become. A man, even an Indian, is what his circumstances make him. The only way I can conceive to make a first-class man, is to place him under first-class influences. I am generalizing now, of course; the exceptions are rare enough to prove the rule."
"I wish I had those spoons," said Fanny, "they would be such a curiosity at home."
