"Be off," I shouted. "Have you no proper play to occupy your time?"
They fled hilariously, pleased rather than outraged by the attack, after the perverse habit of children who prefer always to be noticed instead of ignored. The citizens who had witnessed the persecution of the Indian chuckled openly at the discomfiture of his assailants, and then returned to their pipes.
I was proceeding on my way when I was dumfounded by hearing the Indian address me.
"Hold, brother," he said in perfect English, but with a certain thick guttural accent. "Ta-wan-ne-ars would thank you."
"You speak English!" I exclaimed.
A light of amusement gleamed in his eyes, although his face remained expressionless as a mask.
"You do not think of the Indian as these ignorant little ones do?" he asked curiously.
"I—I know nothing of your people," I stammered. "I am but this day landed here."
"My brother is an Englishman?" he questioned, not idly but with the courteous interest of a gentleman.
"I am."