For a time no one spoke, then the Big Chief, in a calm, deliberate and thoughtful manner, addressed the interpreter, who said:
"For shure he dunno, heem, how white man mak' dat papier hear an' speak dem words of long tam. Dis man he hav' someteeng dat he comprends pas."
A long consultation then took place among the dusky sons of the forest, and once more the interpreter turned to the stranger and said:
"Our tribe she tink like dis—Eenglishman he got someteeng he comprends pas at all; mabbe, he say, she wan beeg loup garou* and he tink it am better to be bon ami an' leeve in de sam' place dan be bad ennemi; so he am mak' you chief an' be de bess frien'."
* An indescribable monster, supposed to have supernatural powers.
The words were hardly finished when the Big Chief Machecawa (the strong one) advanced with slow and stately tread and implanted a kiss on the brow of the stranger. The Chief was a man in the prime of life, of great height and strength. As he stood there, still and motionless, he looked like a colossal statue in bronze, a perfect model, from his feathered head-dress to his beaded moccasins. He was followed by several subordinate chiefs who did likewise.
"He stood there, a colossal statue in bronze."
The Chief then spread a piece of well-dressed moose-skin, neatly painted, before him on the ground, upon which he opened a curious skin bag containing several mysterious looking articles, the principal one being a small carved image about eight inches long. Its first covering was of down, over which a piece of birch bark was closely tied, and the whole was enveloped in several folds of red and blue cloth. This little figure was evidently an object of the most pious regard. The next article taken from the bag was his war cap, which was decorated with feathers and plumes of rare birds, the claws of beaver, eagles, etc. Suspended from it was a quill for every enemy whom the owner had slain in battle. The remaining contents of the bag were a piece of tobacco and a pipe.