“Tonyquat, your father is not a Christian.”
“My fadder would knock zoo down if zoo say dat to hims face,” replied the child confidently.
This seemed so palpable a truth that the Indian nodded several times, and grinned fiendishly.
“Do Christians swear, an’ drink, and fight, and get angry till the blood makes the face blue, and strike with the fist?” asked Petawanaquat.
“Oh, no—never,” replied Tony, adopting that shocked tone and look which Elsie was in the habit of using when anything wicked was propounded to her; “dey’s always dood, like Josuf an’ Abel an’ Sam’l, an’ Cain, an’ David, an’ Saul—”
Tony stopped short, with an indistinct idea that he was mixing pattern characters.
“Ho!” muttered the savage, with a gleam of triumph in his eyes, “Petawanaquat has got his heart.”
“Eh, zoo got ’im by heart a’ready? Took me long, long time to git ’em by heart,” said Tony, with a look of admiration, which was sadly marred by the paint. “Me’s not got ’em all off yet. But you’s clever, an’—an’—big.”
The Indian’s smile became a sad one, and his look was again perplexed, as he rose and returned to the camp, followed by his adopted son. It was obvious that no light was to be thrown on his religious difficulties, whatever they were, by Tonyquat.
After leaving the lakelet on the plains, the Indian travelled for several days with his friends; and then parting from them, went towards the west, to rejoin his family. This point of divergence the pursuers had missed, and when they overtook the Indian band, they found, to their intense regret, that the kidnapper had escaped them.