“The white man thinks Oloompa speaks false; see!” said he,—a smile playing over his countenance, as he made the remark.
“See what?” said Rolfe.
“Many people have been here,” answered Oloompa, pointing to several different places upon the earth.
Rolfe looked, and looked again, but he could see nothing. “Come here, Earth, and tell me if you can see what Oloompa does.”
“What is it?” inquired Earth.
“He says,” answered Rolfe, “that many people have been here.”
“So much the worse,” said Earth, as approaching he bent down, and began to examine several slight indentations, at which Oloompa was intently gazing. Having scrutinized for a time, he observed, “Rolfe, I can't make out any thing; I see several marks, but I should jest as soon think that a 'coon had made 'em with his toe nails when he was walking it off, as any other way.”
But Oloompa regarded not their dialogue; every moment his face became brighter; and, jumping up, he began to examine other spots.—Then, for a moment walking slowly, and circling round, like a hound which has lost the track, he crossed the prints several times, satisfied himself of the direction they had taken, then following a short distance, only that no doubt might remain, he gave a whoop of joy, and ran back towards the hunters. Earth was still suspicious, and raised his rifle.
“Down with your gun, hunter;—Oloompa's heart is glad. He sees their path,—he can follow them,—he will show the white man the pale maiden, and he will see the fawn of the forest.—The white man shall say Oloompa is true to his word.”
There was an expression so joyous in his countenance, and his manner was so earnest, that hope came to the hearts of the hunters. Oloompa continuing to search, entered the wigwam, and Rolfe said, “Earth, may he not be deceiving us?”