On this, Mysticoose declared that he would be ready to learn the religion of the pale-faces and adopt their customs, and entreated that he might be allowed the opportunity of declaring his sentiments to the maiden.
Captain Mackintosh, though very much annoyed, kept his countenance as well as his temper, and endeavoured to persuade the chief that he could find a far more suitable wife among his own people, with whose beauty he would be satisfied, and who would labour for him like her sisters in general. All he could say, however, did not appear to have any effect in turning the young chief from his purpose; but, on the contrary, he grew more and more eager, as if determined to succeed.
All the time Sybil, unconscious that she was the subject of conversation, went on with her sketch; and as she drew rapidly, she succeeded in producing a very exact portrait of the savage warrior.
Norman, who had been attending to his duties in the store, now returned, and looking over Sybil’s shoulder exclaimed—
“Capital! It’s Mysticoose himself.” Snatching it from her hand, he held it up to the chief, saying, “What do you think of that, my friend? It’s wonderfully like you, isn’t it?”
Mysticoose started as he saw it, without making any reply; and rapidly advancing towards the young lady, endeavoured to take her hand. She instinctively drew back, and stepped behind Effie.
On meeting with this rebuff, the chief stopped short, and addressed Sybil, expressing in glowing language his admiration of her charms. Though she could not understand his words, she could not fail to suspect their meaning. Norman, however, who was sufficiently acquainted with the language of the Blackfeet to make out the meaning of the speech—though the expressions were too elaborate for him to follow—not possessing the discretion of his father, burst out laughing.
“What’s all that you’re saying?” he exclaimed. “Just face-about, and march out of this fort in double-quick time, or we may be obliged to send you off in a way you may not be pleased with.”
Scarcely had Norman uttered these words, than the chief, placing his hand on the hilt of his scalping-knife, cast a glance full of anger at the speaker, but had so far command of himself as not to draw it.