Again the Indian manifested his sense of my friendship for him by that passing gleam on his dark face; and again all signs of emotion passed slowly away.
"How long since see him?" he asked me suddenly.
"See him—the Chainbearer, do you mean? I have not seen him, now, for more than a twelvemonth; not since we parted when the regiment was disbanded."
"Don't mean Chainbearer—mean him," pointing ahead—"house, tree, farm, land, Nest."
"Oh! How long is it since I saw the patent? I never saw it, Sureflint; this is my first visit."
"Dat queer! How you own land, when nebber see him?"
"Among the pale-faces we have such laws, that property passes from parent to child; and I inherit mine in this neighborhood, from my grandfather, Herman Mordaunt."
"What dat mean, 'herit? How man haf land, when he don't keep him?"
"We do keep it, if not by actually remaining on the spot, by means of our laws and our titles. The pale-faces regulate all these things on paper, Sureflint."
"T'ink dat good? Why no let man take land where he want him, when he want him? Plenty land. Got more land dan got people. 'Nough for ebberybody."