Hardly were the words spoken by the Indian when Jack lowered his gun, softly letting down the hammer, and said, with a smile--
"Arowaka, let us be friends."
As he spoke, he stepped forward and offered his hand to the young Wyandot.
You would have been entertained could you have seen the face of Arowaka when he grasped the meaning of the words and actions of his conqueror. The paint smeared over his countenance could not hide the expressions of bewilderment, of wonder, and then of delight, that succeeded each other so quickly that he extended his own hand, and shook that of Jack with a warmth of pressure which made him wince.
"Arowaka love Jack."
There was no mistaking the depth of feeling that prompted these words, spoken in a low voice, in which there was a quaver that was not there when he declared himself ready to die.
The Indian felt that the youth who had overthrown him in the wrestling bout, and whose death he had treacherously attempted, had now given back his own life to him. That stratum of gratitude which, though hidden deeper in some hearts than others, nevertheless is there, and can be reached, had been found by Jack. The burning hatred of Arowaka for the youth was now turned to love.
The American might feel an enmity for ever toward the Caucasian, but against this single member of that race he could never know aught but deep affection.
I tell you, boys and girls, there is nothing like kindness and charity in winning the hearts of your enemies. Make the test, and prove it for yourselves.
At the moment the two youths of different blood stood with hands clasped and looking in each other's face, a third party silently pressed forward into sight.