“Is my son from the West?” said Malachi, in the Indian tongue, after a silence of one or two minutes.
“The Young Otter is from the West,” replied the Indian. “The old men have told him of the Grey Badger, who has lived the life of a snake, and who has hunted with the fathers of those who are now old. Does my father live with the white man?”
“He lives with the white man,” replied Malachi; “he has no Injun blood in his veins.”
“Has the white man many in his lodge?” said the Indian.
“Yes; many young men and many rifles,” replied Malachi.
The Indian did not continue this conversation, and there was a silence, of some minutes. Malachi was convinced that the young Indian had been sent to intimate that Percival was alive and in captivity, and he resolved to wait patiently till he brought up the subject.
“Does not the cold kill the white man?” said the Indian at last.
“No; the white man can bear the winter’s ice as well as an Injun. He hunts as well, and brings home venison.”
“Are all who came here with him now in the white man’s lodge?”
“No, not all; one white child slept in the snow, and is in the land of spirits,” replied Malachi.