“The Iroquois chief go to speak—my pale-face friend listen,” said Hist.
“I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty. “God has touched his heart, and he will now let father and Hurry go.”
“This is the pale-face law,” resumed the chief. “It tells him to do good to them that hurt him, and when his brother asks him for his rifle to give him the powder horn, too. Such is the pale-face law?”
“Not so—not so—” answered Hetty earnestly, when these words had been interpreted—“There is not a word about rifles in the whole book, and powder and bullets give offence to the Great Spirit.”
“Why then does the pale-face use them? If he is ordered to give double to him that asks only for one thing, why does he take double from the poor Indian who ask for no thing. He comes from beyond the rising sun, with this book in his hand, and he teaches the red man to read it, but why does he forget himself all it says? When the Indian gives, he is never satisfied; and now he offers gold for the scalps of our women and children, though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a warrior killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.”
When Hetty had got this formidable question fairly presented to her mind in the translation, and Hist did her duty with more than usual readiness on this occasion, it scarcely need be said that she was sorely perplexed. Abler heads than that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled by questions of a similar drift, and it is not surprising that with all her own earnestness and sincerity she did not know what answer to make.
“What shall I tell them, Hist,” she asked imploringly—“I know that all I have read from the book is true, and yet it wouldn't seem so, would it, by the conduct of those to whom the book was given?”
“Give 'em pale-face reason,” returned Hist, ironically—“that always good for one side; though he bad for t'other.”
“No—no—Hist, there can't be two sides to truth—and yet it does seem strange! I'm certain I have read the verses right, and no one would be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. That can never be, Hist.”
“Well, to poor Injin girl, it seem every thing can be to pale-faces,” returned the other, coolly. “One time 'ey say white, and one time 'ey say black. Why never can be?”