mented in
an undertone: "But it is ninety-six years since Captain Cook visited
this coast. How the old humbug lies."

At this whispered imputation upon his honor, the old chief regarded us
scornfully; though how such a parchment countenance could be made to
express anything excited my wonder.

"Me no lie. Nittinat's heart big. Nittinat's heart good. _Close
tum-tum_, ugh!"

"White man's eyes are closed--his heart is darkened," said I, adopting
what I considered to be a conciliatory style of speech. "My friend cannot
understand how you could have known Captain Cook so long ago. All the
white men who knew the great white chief have gone to their fathers."

"Ugh, all same as Cappen Cook. He no believe my cousin Wiccanish see big
Spanish ship 'fore he came."

"How did he make him see it at last?" asked Charlie, stretching himself
out on the grass, and covering his eyes with his hat, from under the
brim of which he shot quizzical glances at Fanny and I.

"Wiccanish showed Cook these," replied Nittinat, drawing from beneath
his robe a necklace of shells, to which two silver spoons were attached,
of a peculiar pattern, and much battered and worn.

"Oh, do let me see them," cried Fanny, whose passion for relics was
quickly aroused. Charlie, too, was constrained to abandon his lazy
attitude for a moment to examine such a curiosity as these quaint old
spoons.

"Only to think that they are more than a hundred years old! But I cannot
make out the lettering upon them; perhaps he is deceiving us after all,"
said Fanny, passing them to me for inspection.

I took out of my pocket a small magnifying-glass, which, although it
could not restore what was worn away, brought to light all that was left
of an inscription, probably the manufacturer's trade-mark, the only
legible part of which was 17-0.

"Did the Spanish captain give these to your cousin?" I asked.

"Ugh!" responded Nittinat, nodding his tall extinguisher. "Wiccanish go
on board big ship, see cappen."

"And stole the spoons," murmured Charlie from under his hat.

Fanny touched his foot with the stick of her parasol, for she stood in
awe of this ancient historian, not wishing to be made a subject of his
powerful "medicine."

"And so you knew Captain Cook?" I repeated, when the spoons were hidden
once more under the mantle of rushes, "and other white men too, I
suppose. Did your people and the white people always keep on friendly
terms?"

"Me have good heart," a