The Sioux took out one of the silver pieces from his belt, and held it up in one hand, while he extended the other toward his visitor.
“More!” he said.
“Oh, dat’s your game, is it, you avaricious old cormudgeon?—t’anks to goodness, he can’t understand dat!” said the negro, laughing and taking out another handful of silver.
“No, you don’t!” he continued, as the sachem offered to take it. “Not ef dis child know hisself!”
“Dollars,” said the Indian, still reaching out his hand.
“Corn and meat,” replied Joe.
“Money.”
“De victuals fust.”
The Indian smiled now, and, rising with difficulty, stood shaking a moment, and then pointed to the skins on which he had been sitting.
“I see,” said Joe, “but we can’t eat dem.”