The other manifested his astonishment in a different way: after standing for a long time motionless, and watching the Negro, he walked up to him, and not uttering a word, seized Quoniam's arm, and began rubbing it with all his strength with the skirt of his buffalo robe.
The Negro, who at the outset readily indulged the Indian's whims, soon began to grow impatient; he tried at first to liberate himself, but was unable to succeed, for the Chief held him firmly, and conscientiously went on with his singular operation. In the meanwhile, the Negro, whom this continued rubbing was beginning not merely to annoy, but cause terrible suffering, began uttering frequent yells, while making the most tremendous efforts to escape from his pitiless torturer.
Tranquil's attention was aroused by Quoniam's cries; he threw up his head smartly, and ran up at full speed to deliver the Negro, who was rolling his eyes in terror, leaping from one side to the other, and yelling like a condemned man.
"Why does my brother torture that man so?" the Canadian asked as he interposed.
"I?" the Chief asked in surprise, "I am not torturing him; his disguise is not necessary, so I am removing it."
"What! My disguise?" Quoniam shouted.
Tranquil made him a sign to be silent.
"This man is not disguised," he continued.
"Why, then, has he painted all his body in this way?" the Chief asked obstinately, "Warriors only paint their face."
The hunter could not repress a burst of laughter.