This last remark was made in a way I did not like; for the idea seemed to cross the Onondago's brain so suddenly, as to draw from him this brief assertion in pure bitterness of spirit.
“I should be very sorry if it had not been, Susquesus,” I observed, myself, “since the title is all the better for its having been so, as our Indian deed will show. You know, of course, that my father, and his friend, Col. Follock, bought this land of the Mohawks, and paid them their own price for it.”
“Red-man nebber measure land so. He p'int with finger, break bush down, and say, 'there, take from that water to that water.'”
“All very true, my friend; but, as that sort of measurement will not answer to keep farms separate, we are obliged to survey the whole off into lots of smaller size. The Mohawks first gave my father and his friend, as much land as they could walk round in two suns, allowing them the night to rest in.”
“That good deed!” exclaimed the Indian, with strong emphasis. “Leg can't cheat—pen great rogue.”
“Well, we have the benefit of both grants; for the proprietors actually walked round the estate, a party of Indians accompanying them, to see that all was fair. After that, the chiefs signed a deed in writing, that there might be no mistake, and then we got the King's grant.”
“Who give King land, at all?—All land here red-man land; who give him to king?”
“Who made the Delawares women?—The warriors of he Six nations, was it not, Susquesus?”
“Yes—my people help. Six Nation great warrior, and put petticoat on Delawares, so they can't go on war-path any more. What that to do with King's land?”
“Why, the King's warriors, you know, my friend, have taken possession of this country, just as the Six Nations took possession of the Delawares, before they made them women.”