(Where credit is due I’m determined to give it)
And the priest before long was as right as a trivet.
“My friend and preserver, you very well know,”
Thus the Father the red-skin addressed,
“That of gold and of silver I’ve none to bestow,
In return for the life that to you I must owe”;
(Here he drew a silk bag from his breast)—
“But one precious treasure I beg you’ll accept.”
(And here, overcome by emotion, he wept.)
Then he took a small object from out of the bag,