“I don’t know—I suppose so; but perhaps they’re not all as bad as some white people say.”
“YOU’RE A CHIEF’S SON, AREN’T YOU?”
Canning shook his head encouragingly at Will Palmer: evidently this young Indian had a manly spirit, and was not going to have his people abused. There was a moment or two of silence, each boy wondering what next to ask. Finally, Napoleon Nott said,
“You’re a chief’s son, aren’t you?”
“What?” exclaimed Paul, so sharply that Notty dodged behind Will Palmer, and put his hand to his head as if to protect his scalp.
“I meant” said Notty, tremblingly—“I meant to ask what tribe you belonged to.”
“I? What tribe? Notty, what are you talking about?”
Notty did not answer; so Paul looked around at the other boys, but they also were silent.
“Notty,” said Paul, “what on earth are you thinking about? Do you imagine I’m an Indian?”