"You haven't spoken to me this morning; what troubles you?"
The boy's face met the sympathetic eye of the master, and he said:
"I was happy on the morning when I came—sun; she hate Indian, talk against him to you; make me unhappy—shade; think I will have my revenge—pil-pil; then music make me happy; you make me happy; night come, and I think of her—she hate Indian—shade. Me will have my revenge—pil-pil. She say I have no right here; she have no right here; the land all belong to Umatilla; then to me; I no have her here. Look out for the October moon—Potlatch—dance—pil-pil."
"I will be a friend to you, Benjamin."
"Yes, Boston tilicum, we will be friends."
"And I will teach you how to be noble—like a king. You felt good when I was kind to you?"
"Yes, Boston tilicum."
"And when the music played?"
"Yes, Boston tilicum."
"Then you must be good to her; that will make her feel good toward you. Do you see?"