“My son,” returned Nazinred, “I have not lived very long yet, but I have lived long enough to see, and feel, and know that the kind spirit is the right spirit, because it warms the heart, and opens the eyes, and gives light, and it is the only spirit that can make friends of foes. Is it not better to live at peace and in good-will with all men than to live as enemies?”
“Ho!” responded Mozwa, by way of assent.
“Then the peaceful spirit is the right one,” rejoined the chief, with a long-drawn sigh that indicated a tendency to close the discussion.
As Mozwa felt himself to be in a somewhat confused mental condition, he echoed the sigh, laid down his pipe, drew his blanket round him, and, without the formality of “Good-night,” resigned himself to repose.
Nazinred, after taking a look at the weather, pondering, perchance, on the probabilities of the morrow, and throwing a fresh log on the fire, also wrapped his blanket round him and lost himself in slumber.
Chapter Fifteen.
Wild Doings of the Fur-Traders and Red Men.
In course of time, after many a hard struggle with rushing rapids and not a few narrow escapes from dangerous rocks, the Indian voyagers swept out at last upon the broad bosom of Great Bear Lake.