Whether the Indian took this for a compliment or otherwise there was no expression on his mahogany face to tell, as he sat there calmly smoking and staring at the lamp. Suddenly he removed the pipe from his lips and looked intently at the Eskimo, who in turn regarded him with evident expectation.
“My son,” said Nazinred, “I have one or two questions to put to you. You and I agree about many things. Tell me, what would you think of the fawn that would forsake its dam?”
Cheenbuk was puzzled, but replied that he thought there must be something the matter with it—something wrong.
“I will tell you a story,” continued the Indian, “and it is true. It did not come into my head. I did not dream it. There was a man-of-the-woods, and he had a squaw and one child, a girl. The parents were very fond of this girl. She was graceful like the swan. Her eyes were large, brown, and beautiful like the eyes of a young deer. She was active and playful like the young rabbit. When she was at home the wigwam was full of light. When she was absent it was dark. The girl loved her father and mother, and never disobeyed them or caused them to suffer for a moment. One day, when the father was far away from home, a number of bad Eskimos came and fought with the men-of-the-woods, who went out and drove their enemies away. They took one prisoner, a strong fine-looking man. One night the prisoner escaped. It was discovered that the girl helped him and then went away with him.”
He paused and frowned at this point, and the startled Cheenbuk at once recognised himself and Adolay as the hero and heroine of the story.
“Did the girl,” he asked, “go away with the escaped prisoner of her own will, or did he force her to go?”
“She went of her own will,” returned the Indian.
“One of the women of the tribe followed her and heard her speak. But the father loved his child. He could not hate her, although she forsook her home. At first he thought of taking all his young men and going on the war-path to follow the Eskimos, slay the whole tribe, and bring back his child. But Manitou had put it in the father’s mind to think that it is wrong to kill the innocent because of the guilty. He therefore made up his mind to set off alone to search for his child.”
Again Nazinred paused, and Cheenbuk felt very uncomfortable, for although he knew that it was impossible for the Indian to guess that the Eskimo with whom he had once had a personal conflict was the same man as he who had been taken prisoner and had escaped with his daughter, still he was not sure that the astute Red man might not have put the two things together and so have come to suspect the truth.
“So, then, man-of-the-woods,” said Cheenbuk at last, “you are the father who has lost his daughter?”