One of them spoke up saying, "Have you seen the tall man?" and another said, "Yes; have you seen the white chief?" "He is a handsome man!" "He has a good temper!" "He does not get angry!" "He is always smiling!"
With expressions such as these, mingled with a gentle titter, the women talked about the man who was in charge of the tent.
"Has he a wife?"
"No! he has not any," replied one of the women. "I was at his lodge and I did not see any woman there, and he has not another tent in the camp."
"He is like all other white men; he does not care for an Indian woman," ejaculated another.
"No! he is not like others; he is a far better looking man, and he would not treat an Indian woman like them. He has too good a heart."
"I would not trust him. He is like all the others. They are all alike. My chief says they are all the same. They look very pleasant, but they have the heart of a snake."
In the lodge sat a young woman who took no part in the conversation, and yet listened intently to the words of the others. She was an interested listener, but with the quiet demeanor of an Indian her countenance was unmoved while they were speaking. She was a comely maiden of about fifteen or sixteen years, whom her father loved so much that he would not give her to any of the men in the camp; thus she had remained unmarried longer than was generally the case. She was modest and beautiful, dressed neatly and worked hard. She, too, had seen the white chief, as they called Major Brown, for she had accompanied her father several times to trade. He had even spoken to her, and she had replied in her own quiet way to his questions when her father signified his desire for her to speak. It was not, therefore, an uninteresting conversation to her, although she refrained from discussing his personal appearance or character.
"Come, Napiake, what do you think of the white chief?" asked one of the women.
"I don't think anything about him," she replied, in her modest way.