"You fight, too?"
"Too small; I do little odd jobs—when big Injin kill soldier I skin um head."
I begged for further items, but Pete seemed to feel that he had been already verbose. He dismissed the historic action with a wise saying:
"Killing soldiers all right; but it don't settle nothing." He drew a triangle.
Indelicately then I pried into his spiritual life.
"You a Christian, Pete?"
"Injin-Christian," he amended—as one would say "Progressive-Republican."
"Believe in God?"
"Two." This was a guarded admission; I caught his side glance.
"Which ones?" I asked it cordially; and Pete smiled as one who detects a brother liberal in theology.