“I am pleased to hear Oluski say so,” was the nephew’s reply.
“I did not tell you that he had made an offer to buy the hill.”
“To buy the hill! What hill?”
“That on which we make our annual encampment. We call it Tampa after the bay.”
“Indeed! He wants that, too?” rejoined the young chief, in a tone savouring of indignation.
“Yes; I called our council together, and told them of the offer.”
“And their answer?”
“The same as my own; they refused.”
Wacora gave a sigh of relief.
“When I carried that answer to the white he was not angry, but met me like a friend.”