"Sa-a-go?"—I answered to my neighbor's civil salutation.
After this we walked along for a few minutes more, neither party speaking. I took this opportunity to examine my red brother, an employment that was all the easier from the circumstance that he did not once look at me; the single glance sufficing to tell him all he wanted to know. In the first place, I was soon satisfied that my companion did not drink, a rare merit in a red man who lived near the whites. This was evident from his countenance, gait, and general bearing, as I thought, in addition to the fact that he possessed no bottle, or anything else that would hold liquor. What I liked the least was the circumstance of his being completely armed; carrying knife, tomahawk, and rifle, and each seemingly excellent of its kind. He was not painted, however, and he wore an ordinary calico shirt, as was then the usual garb of his people in the warm season. The countenance had the stern severity that is so common to a red warrior; and, as this man was turned of fifty, his features began to show the usual signs of exposure and service. Still, he was a vigorous, respectable-looking red man, and one who was evidently accustomed to live much among civilized men. I had no serious uneasiness, of course, at meeting such a person, although we were so completely buried in the forest but, as a soldier, I could not help reflecting how inferior my fowling-piece would necessarily prove to be to his rifle should he see fit to turn aside, and pull upon me from behind a tree, for the sake of plunder. Tradition said such things had happened; though, on the whole, the red man of America has perhaps proved to be the most honest of the two, as compared with those who have supplanted him.
"How ole chief?" the Indian suddenly asked, without even raising his eyes from the road.
"Old chief! Do you mean Washington, my friend?"
"Not so—mean ole chief, out here, at Nest. Mean fader."
"My father! Do you know General Littlepage?"
"Be sure, know him. Your fader—see"—holding up his two forefingers—"just like—dat him; dis you."
"This is singular enough! And were you told that I was coming to this place?"
"Hear dat, too. Always talk about chief."
"Is it long since you saw my father?"