“No,” promptly replied the daughter, assuming the dignified tone and attitude usual among those engaged in the ceremonies of some formal presentation, or public introduction. “No, but my father will be pleased to learn that this is the Mr. Claud Elwood, who did your daughter such good service in her dangers on the rapids, and whom she has now conducted here, that he might have the opportunity to see the chief, and receive the thanks which it is more fitting for the father than the daughter to bestow.”
“My daughter’s words are good,” said the chief. “The young brave has our thanks to last; but the Red Man’s thanks are acted, the White Man’s spoken. Does the young man understand the creed of our people?”
Fluella looked at Claud as if he was the one to answer the question, and he accordingly remarked:
“I have ever heard, chief, that your people always notice a benefit done to them, and that he who does them one secures their lasting gratitude.”
“The young man,” rejoined the chief, considerately, “has heard words that make, sometime, too much; they make true, the good-doer doing no wrong to us after. But when he takes advantage of our gratitude he wipes out the debt; he does more,—he stands to be punished like one an enemy always.”
The maiden here cast an uneasy glance at Claud, and a deprecating one at her father, at the unnecessary caution, as she believed it, which she perceived the latter intended to convey by his words to the former. But, to her relief, Claud did not appear as if he thought the remarks had any application to himself, for he frankly responded:
“Your distinction is a just one, chief. Your views about these matters are my own views. Your creed is a good creed, so far as the remembrance of benefits is concerned; and I wish I could see it observed as generally among my people as I believe it to be among yours. But, chief, your daughter makes too much out of my assistance, the other day. I did only a common duty,—what I should have been a coward not to have done. I have no claim for any particular gratitude from her or you.”
“Our gratitude was strong before; the young man now makes stronger,” remarked the other, exchanging appreciating glances with his daughter.
“No, chief,” resumed Claud, “I did not come here to boast of that small service, nor claim any thanks for it, but to see a sagamore, who could give me the knowledge of the Red Man which I would like to possess; to see one who, in times gone by, was as a king in this lake country. His own history, and that of his people especially, I would like to hear. They must be full of interest and instruction to an inquirer like me. Will not the chief relate it briefly? I have leisure,—my ears are open to his words.”
“Would the young man know the history of Wenongonet, alone?” said the other, with a musing and melancholy air. “It may be told easier than by words. Does the young man see on yonder hill that tall, green pine, which stands braced on the rocks, and laughs at the storms, because it is strong and not afraid?”