The Chisera
(Letting her blanket slip to her breast.) Know, then, that if these are your reasons, Rain Wind, there is no more meat in them than in the husk of acorns. If good fortune hangs on all Simwa's movements, it is by reason of the medicine I make that binds him in the favor of the Friend.
Simwa
(Leaning on his elbows, with the manner of being quite at ease.) You are very free with your blessing, Chisera, if it is so; for it is well known in the camp that Simwa, the Arrow-Maker, does not believe in charms, nor seek them.
Indians
(Grunting in assent.) Ugh! huh!
The Chisera
(Letting fall her blanket in a burst of indignation.) “Nor seek them!”—Ah! Simwa! Simwa!
(A short pause of embarrassment and consternation ensues. Then Padahoon, in a manner meant to seem impartial—)
Padahoon