I turned my steps toward the main camp of Ottawas, and there I idled for an hour. The braves were good-humored with me, for I was a trader, not an officer, and their noses were keen for the brandy that I might have for barter. So that I was free to watch them at their gambling, or dip my ladle in their kettles if I willed. All this was good, but it went no further. With all my artifices, I could not make my way into the great circle around the camp fire, and I grew sore with my incapacity, for I saw that Longuant, the most powerful chief of the Ottawas, was speaking. I picked up a bone and threw it among the dogs with an oath for my own slowness.
The bone was greasy, and I took out my handkerchief, but before I could use it to wipe my hands, a young squaw pushed her way up to me, and offered her long black hair as a napkin. She threw the oily length across my arm, and flattered me in fluent Ottawa.
Then I forgot myself. The body frequently plays traitor in emergencies, and my repugnance conquered me so that I pushed her away before I had time to think. Then I knew that I must make amends.
"The beauty of your hair is like the black ice with the moon on it," I said in Ottawa. "You must not soil it."
She giggled with pleasure to hear me use her own tongue, and would have come close to me again, but I motioned her away.
"Stay there, and catch this," I called, and I tossed her a small coin.
For all her squat figure and her broad, dull face, she was quick of action as a weasel. She put her hands behind her, and, thrusting her head forward, caught the coin in her teeth. It was well done; so well that I said "Brava," and the braves around me gave approving grunts.
"Look at the stupid Frenchman!" I heard a brave say. "For all his red coat, and his manners, he cannot catch as well as a squaw."
I pointed my finger at him, and twirled my mustaches as if I were playing villain in a comedy. "A Frenchman does not stoop to catch money," I vaunted, with my arm akimbo. "Money is for slaves and women. Give the Frenchman a spear, a man's weapon, and then see if he can be beaten at throwing by a squaw."
There was a laugh at this, and the squaw to whom I had thrown the coin seized a sturgeon spear that leaned against a kettle, and hurled it at me. I turned my back, and caught it over my shoulder. There was a hush among the braves for a moment, then a low growl of applause. "Let him do it again," several voices cried.