“Pottawattamie got long ear—come fudder—” said Pigeonswing; “go cook-house—t'ink we want breakfast.”
Ben did as desired; and the two were soon side by side at the spring, in the outlet of which they made their ablutions—the redskin being totally without paint. When this agreeable office was performed, each felt in better condition for a conference.
“Elkfoot got belt from Canada fadder,” commenced the Chippewa, with a sententious allusion to the British propensity to keep the savages in pay. “KNOW he got him KNOW he keep him.”
“And you, Pigeonswing—by your manner of talking I had set you down for a king's Injin, too.”
“TALK so—no FEEL bit so. MY heart Yankee.”
“And have you not had a belt of wampum sent you, as well as the rest of them?”
“Dat true—got him—don't keep him.”
“What! did you dare to send it back?”
“Ain't fool, dough young. Keep him; no keep him. Keep him for Canada fadder; no keep him for Chippewa brave.”
“What have you then done with your belt?”