“Whatever his brothers want,” replied the Blackfoot in good English. He looked first at Deerfoot for his request.
“Let my brother bring a buffalo,” he replied, knowing very well that none was in the neighborhood.
“Mul-tal-la would have to journey too far,” said the warrior, who had acquired from his friend the habit of speaking of himself in the third person; “but if Deerfoot wants it he will hunt till he finds a buffalo.”
“Then let my brother bring anything,” added the Shawanoe significantly, as if he doubted the ability of his friend to shoot any kind of game. That was the impression, too, he meant to make.
The Blackfoot turned to the boys.
“I’m not particular,” remarked George, who was inclined to sympathize with the homely but good-natured fellow.
“What would my brother like more than anything else?” persisted Mul-tal-la.
“I think a meal of venison would taste good. What do you say, Victor?”
“Nothing can suit me better,”
“My brothers shall eat deer’s meat when Mul-tal-la comes back”, was the confident comment of the hunter.