The meal continued, to the great astonishment of Oliver. He could not understand the calm and sang-froid of these four men in presence of such an awful event. He was half inclined to accuse them even of coldness of heart.
He knew nothing of that Indian etiquette, more severe than that of any other country, which requires this apparent coldness. He soon, however, discovered how much he was mistaken, and how deeply all these brave and loyal hearts were wounded by the fatal incident.
The repast was sad and gloomy. Nobody spoke. They ate as if it were a duty which must be done.
After the hasty repast was over there was silence.
"You have come, sir," said the old man, addressing Oliver, "at an unfortunate moment; pardon us if we seem rude and inhospitable. But evil has fallen on us."
"You told me, sir," replied the young man, "that I was to become a member of your family. Let me, then, share your sorrows as well as your joys. I feel more on the subject than you think, being Bright-eye's brother."
"Thank you; you are one of us," said the old man.
"You are my second son," cried the father.
"I thank you, and hope to prove myself deserving."
Everybody now rose from table, filled his pipe and lighted it, and then, the repast having in the meantime been cleared away, seated themselves by the fire.