"You are my preserver," said Arundel, "and shall not find the white man ungrateful."
"Enough," answered the Indian. "Let wild beasts find some other food than men."
"It was a strong hand as well as true aim that sent this arrow," said the young man, drawing the shaft out of the animal's brain, in which the barbed point, coming off, remained behind, "and I must furnish you at least another arrow."
"Waqua has plenty of arrows in his quiver, and can get more."
"Thou art an independent fellow," exclaimed Arundel; "but there is one thing I have to offer thee which thou must accept—that is, my hand, and it is a sign that I will be thy brother."
There was something in the action and expression of Arundel's face that was irresistibly attractive to the Indian. He took the offered hand into both of his and replied, "Waqua gives his two hands to the white man. He loves the white man, and the Great Spirit sent Waqua to protect his brother."
"Thou hast established a claim to, my friendship stronger than often exists. Be sure we will be friends. My brother is on a hunting path. What success has he?"
"A deer," replied Waqua, stepping into a bush, returning with the carcass on his shoulder, and throwing it upon the ground.
"Is my brother's lodge distant?"
"It would not tire a new born fawn to run the distance. My white brother shall see the wigwam of Waqua, and rest his limbs, and then Waqua will go with him to the lodges of the white men at Shawmut."