"Great chief of the Ayana," he began, "Natsatt bids you and your daughter welcome. The white men have come to meet you. They would be your friends."
His words had the desired effect, for one by one the men stepped forward and grasped Klitonda's hand. Their friendliness pleased the chief. He looked keenly into the various faces before him, and then turned his eyes to the formidable barricade to the right. But no word did he speak. He stood quietly before them, his commanding figure drawn to its fullest height. For weeks he had been looking forward to his meeting these men who would aid him against the Chilcats. Now it had come to pass, and he was satisfied. The white men had treated him with respect, and his heart was happy.
In the meantime Natsatt had moved aside, and was standing close to Owindia. Neither spoke, for words were unnecessary. Their hearts thrilled by each other's presence. Natsatt hoped that his companions would shortly saunter away, and leave them alone. In this, however, he was disappointed. They had no inclination to depart, for after shaking hands with the chief, they turned their attention to his daughter. To them Owindia was but an ordinary Indian maiden, though more than commonly beautiful. They believed her to be about as intelligent as the native women they had met beyond the mountains.
"Come, lads, let's welcome the squaw," said Larry Dasan. "She's gripped me heart already, an' I'm going to be the first to shake hands with her."
"Ye'll have plenty of rivals," laughed Tim Burke. "The rest of us may take a hand in this little affair too. I'd go to the devil fer a squaw like that."
Natsatt's heart beat fast, and the blood surged madly through his veins as he listened to these men. He maintained his composure, however, until they began to tip winks to one another, and to utter expressions which are not lawful to record. Then he straightened himself up, and stretched out a warning hand.
"Be careful, men," he began, "for this maiden understands the English language. And, besides, I don't think you should say such words about any woman, no matter if she is an Indian."
A loud laugh was the only response to these words. The men were not in the least disconcerted. That Owindia understood what they were saying troubled them not—they were too coarse for that.
"So you're going to stand by the squaw, are ye?" sneered Larry. "That's your game, is it? Want her for yourself, eh? Squaws ain't women—they're truck. The devil made 'em. They haven't souls. They're only made for the use of men."
"If the devil makes them, he's done a fine job on this one," responded Pete Tarquill, whereupon a laugh ensued.