"Main-Pogue."
"How came you here?"
"I am a friend to the white man. I'm going to meet my son, a boy whom I have made my own."
"You are a spy!"
"I am not a spy. I am Main-Pogue. I am hungry; I am old. I am no spy. Give an old Indian food, and I will serve you while you need. Then let me go and find my boy."
"Food!" said one. "You are a spy, a plotter. There is murder in your heart. We will make short work with you. That is what we are sent out to do."
"I never did the white man harm," said the old man, drawing his blanket around him.
"You shall pay for this, you old hypocrite!" said another officer. "Men, what shall we do with this spy?"
"Kill him!" said one.
"Shoot him!" said another.