“What a power of suction he has got” said Olly, referring not to the Indian, but to the family baby which he had got on his knee, and was feeding with a dangerously large lump of bear’s fat.
“What does he say?” asked Paul, referring to their visitor, who, having come to a temporary pause, with a sigh of contentment had said something in his native tongue to Hendrick.
“He asked me if the singing-birds will gladden his ears and cause his heart to thrill.”
“What means he by that?”
“He only refers to a fact well known among the Indians,” replied the hunter, with a quiet smile, “that Trueheart and Goodred have such sweet voices that they are known everywhere by the name of the singing-birds. Happening to have some knowledge of music, I have trained them to sing in parts one or two hymns taught to me by my mother, and composed, I believe, by a good monk of the olden time. Some things in the hymns puzzled me, I confess, until I had the good fortune to meet with you. I understand them better now. You shall hear one of them.”
So saying, he turned and nodded to Trueheart who of course understood the conversation. With a slight inclination of the head denoting acquiescence she began to sing. At the same moment Goodred parted her pretty lips and joined her. The result was to fill the air with harmony so sweet that the captain and his comrade were struck dumb with delight and surprise, the Indian’s jaw was arrested with an unchewed morsel in the mouth, and the family baby gazing upward in wonder, ceased the effort to choke itself on bear’s fat.
It need scarcely be said that the grunt of the Indian was very emphatic when the sounds died away like fairy-music, and that the hunter’s white guests entreated for more. Trueheart and her daughter were quite willing, and, for a considerable time, kept their audience enthralled.
At last, having washed down his meal with a final basketful of soup, the Indian began to unbosom himself of his news—a few words at a time. It was soon found, however, that he had no news of importance to tell. He was a hunter; he had been out with a party of his tribe, but having differed with them as to the best district to be visited, he had left them and continued the hunt alone. Being not far distant from the home of the white hunter who had mated with the Bethuck singing-bird, he had turned aside for no other purpose than to have his ears gladdened and his heart thrilled!
“We are happy,” said Hendrick, “that our Bethuck brother should have his ears gladdened and his heart thrilled, and we trust that the spirit of the wolf within him is subdued, now that his stomach is also filled.”
A polite grunt was the reply.