"I am a man of peace," continued Jasper. "If any one should seek to slay me, I would not do him any harm. I would forgive him, and pray that his blindness might go from his soul, and that he might see a better life. You welcome me, you are true to me, and, whatever may happen, I will be true to your race."
The black chief bowed, Main-Pogue, and the boy Waubeno.
"I believe you," said Black Hawk. "Your face says 'yes' to your words. The Indian's heart is always true to a friend. Sit down; eat, smoke the peace-pipe, and let us talk. Sit down. The sky is clear, and the night-bird cries for joy on her wing. Let us all sit down and talk. The river rolls on forever by the graves of the braves of old. Let us sit down."
The squaws brought Jasper some cakes and fish, and Black Hawk lighted some long pipes and gave them to Main-Pogue and Waubeno.
"I have brought the boy here for you," said Black Hawk. "He comes of the blood of the brave. Let me tell you his story. It will shame the pale-face, but let me tell you the story. You will say that the Indian can be great, like the pale-face, when I tell you his story. It will smite your heart. Listen."
A silence followed, during which a few puffs of smoke curled into the air from the black chief's pipe. He broke his narrative by such silences, designed to be impressive, and to offer an opportunity for thought on what had been said.
Strange as it may seem to the reader, the story that follows is substantially true, and yet nothing in classic history or modern heroism can surpass in moral grandeur the tale that Black Hawk was always proud to tell:
"Father, that is the boy. He knows all the ways from the Great Lakes to the long river, from the great hills to Kaskaskia. You can trust him; he knows the ways. Main-Pogue knows all the ways. Main-Pogue was a runner for the pale-face. He has taught him the ways. Their hearts are like one heart, Main-Pogue's and Waubeno's.
Black Hawk tells the Story of Waubeno.